To Which Fate Binds
by Electryone
Summary: When her father gets caught stealing from Mr. Gold, Belle is forced to make a deal with him.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: My obsession with Once Upon a Time (specifically Rumplestiltskin and Belle) has been growing and prompted me to publish my first non-Harry Potter fic ever. I've seen very few that take place in Storybrooke before Emma arrives (and before Mr. Gold/Rumplestiltskin gets his memories back) so I ended up writing one of my own. It's slightly AU in that I changed around the timeline of things that took place in the Skin Deep episode. Mostly everything else will be canon-compliant. Please let me know what you think!**  
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**To Which Fate Binds: Chapter 1**

The moment the phone rang, Belle knew that she would be receiving bad news. She rolled over in bed, reaching for her cell phone. The time read 11:27 pm. "Hello?" she said softly.

"Belle?" her father said. She breathed a sigh of relief at hearing his voice. Her dad was the person in town that she cared about the most; since he was speaking to her, he was at least safe, no matter what news he brought her.

"Dad? What's wrong?" She sat up, and braced herself.

"Belle, I'm in jail. The sheriff locked me up for stealing."

Belle gasped. "You're in jail? What happened?"

"I broke into Mr. Gold's store. And I destroyed a few things..." Her heartbeat quickened and she felt like she was going to be sick. Why, why, why?

"Dad, I'll be there in a few minutes."

Belle hung up, and took a few deep breaths. Then she threw on a pair of jeans, a sweater, and tennis shoes.

She rushed outside, and was quickly greeted by a chill in the air. Belle shivered but didn't want to waste time by going back for a coat.

In hindsight, Belle should probably not have been so surprised about her father's arrest. He had been upset when Mr. Gold had seized his truck a few days earlier and had been muttering about revenge and getting justice for the past few days. She had known her father was angry—could she have prevented his crime? It was hard not to feel guilty.

It took less than ten minutes for her to reach the police station. She walked in, completely out of breath. "Hi Graham," she said. She imagined that her acquaintanceship with the sheriff would now become extremely awkward due to him arresting her father. However, she was grateful that he was at least allowing her to see her dad—it was nearly midnight and she imagined that Graham would probably like to go home at some point.

"Belle." He nodded towards the cell behind him. Her eyes fell on her father, who sat on the bed, eyes downcast. "Dad…" She rushed over to the cell. "Dad, what happened?"

Moe French was silent for a moment. Then he turned his face towards her. His eyes had a wild look in them. "I was gonna pay the bastard back—I just needed one more day. It was Valentine's Day for goodness sake. Why couldn't he give me another day?"

"So you _stole_ from him?" Belle tried to keep her voice low. Even though she was furious at her father for making such a poor decision; she knew from experience that her father responded very poorly to condemnation and raised voices. Still, she wanted to scream and yell, demanding to know what he had been thinking to do something so reckless.

"I didn't think I'd get caught—the mayor even said he would have no idea that it was me."

"_Regina Mills_ suggested you steal from Mr. Gold?"

"Well, not in so many words, but she definitely insinuated it that he had it coming…"

"Why would she suggest such a thing?"

He didn't answer.

"Oh, Dad…" She sighed. "What are they planning to do with you?"

"The sheriff said that I could get five to ten years in prison."

Belle gasped. When she had gotten the call, she had realized that some jail time might be involved, but not that much! Tears were threatening to form in her eyes, but she refused to allow them to surface. Sitting in the police station crying certainly wouldn't help; she needed to be strong. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check.

"How much damage did you do, Dad?"

"I broke two windows, a door, a glass cabinet, and some other objects in the store, which will probably be several thousand dollars in damage. And I stole more than fifteen thousand dollars' worth of items from him..."

_Fifteen thousand dollars?_ How could he do such a thing?

"Belle, you have to find me a good lawyer. I can't go to prison. I don't think my heart can take it."

Belle sighed. Her father had been having health problems recently and a stint in jail would definitely make things worse.

She thought back to her time in the psychiatric ward of Storybrooke Hospital—to the seemingly endless years of closed doors and little sunlight. She had constantly felt like she was suffocating. She never knew the day, time, or when her next meal would come, or if she would ever leave. She had lived in fear and uncertainty until the day her father had signed her release papers. He told her that she had been there for four years, and that it had taken that long for her to be cured of her hallucinations and delusions. Visions and dreams of living in a dark castle with a man whose face she could never see had constantly haunted her.

She hadn't had a vision in many years.

Her father had been the one to release her, to let her out of darkness. Now she would do the same for him.

However, many questions ran through her mind. Where would she get the money for a lawyer? Who could she even get to be willing to go up against Mr. Gold? So many people in town were frightened of Mr. Gold and she didn't want her lawyer to be one of the many people in town afraid of incurring his wrath. There were so few who weren't scared of him. The mayor, Regina Mills, and her close knit band of advisers weren't. Belle herself had never found him particularly scary, but then again, she had never had a run-in with him. Sure, the apartment she shared with Mary Margaret Blanchard was owned by him, but neither she nor Mary Margaret had ever had any problem getting him their rent and had therefore stayed under his radar.

"I'll figure something out, Dad. Try to get some sleep."

"I love you, Belle," he said, tears beginning to form in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He looked truly pitiful and her heart nearly broke for him.

"I love you too, Dad. I'll do what I can to get you out of here."

She spent a few minutes talking to Graham about bail, trials, and other things she needed to know, then thanked him and left.

"Belle, what's wrong? Why are you back so late?" a yawning Mary Margaret asked from the doorway of her bedroom as Belle walked into their apartment.

In her job as the Storybrooke Elementary School librarian, Belle had met and been befriended by Mary Margaret, who had offered her the spare room in her apartment. At the time, Belle had been relieved to put distance between her father and herself. Now she wondered if she could have prevented her father from trying to take revenge had she stayed at his house.

"Dad's in jail. He stole from Mr. Gold and vandalized his shop. Do you know of any good lawyers?"

"Belle, I'm so sorry!" Mary Margaret rushed over gave Belle a hug. "No, I don't know of any lawyers, but is there anything else I can do?"

"May I borrow your laptop? I want to see if I can find someone."

"Sure," Mary Margaret said. "Can you think of anything else I can do to help?"

"No, but thanks for asking," Belle told her. "Go back to bed."

Mary Margaret gave her another hug. "I wish I could do more to help. Wake me if you need anything." She left the room.

Belle's online search found a total of three lawyers in Storybrooke: District Attorney Spencer (who was definitely out), Mrs. Jane Anderson, and Mr. Adrian Gold. The fact that Mr. Gold was an attorney didn't surprise Belle at all; the man seemed to have his hand in everything. Belle wrote down the phone number for Jane Anderson's office, planning to call in the morning. She closed the laptop and went back to bed where she spent most of the night tossing and turning, trying to figure out what to do. There was no easy solution.

Belle had never used a personal or sick day at her job, so the school was fine with letting her take the morning off. She called Jane Anderson's secretary, and got an appointment almost immediately, and was (thankfully) told that her initial consultation was free.

The lawyer's office was in a colonial style building on the main road, only a few blocks from her apartment. The secretary showed her into a room with a massive desk and chair that was occupied by a severely dressed woman in her fifties. "Mrs. Anderson? I'm Belle French."

"Miss French, how nice to meet you. Please sit down. What can I help you with today?"

"I'm looking for legal representation for my father. He's in jail for theft."

Mrs. Anderson raised her eyebrows. "Before you say anything more, Miss French, I need to ask you an important question: is your father the man who stole from Mr. Gold?"

"Yes, he is. How did you know about that?" Belle asked worriedly.

"Mr. Gold is one of my clients. He contacted me last night about a burglary in his store." A lump formed in Belle's throat. There was no way that this woman could represent them. In fact, she would probably report back to Gold about Belle showing up here. Belle was grateful that Mrs. Anderson had stopped her before she said too much.

"Do you know of any other attorneys in Storybrooke?"

"Miss French, you will most likely have to find someone from out of town. Unfortunately, lawyers in bigger cities tend to charge more money. For a case like yours, you'll need to make sure you can afford to pay several thousand dollars."

Belle nodded, trying to keep her face neutral. She certainly didn't have thousands of dollars lying around. She could barely afford to make ends meet as it was.

"Your other option, Miss French, is to try to talk to Mr. Gold himself. He's a fairly reasonable man despite the rumors that suggest otherwise."

"Do you think he would dismiss the charges?" Belle asked hopefully.

Anderson laughed, likely thinking Belle was the most naïve woman in town. "Not without getting something in return. He very much likes making deals. Might I suggest that you think of what you might be able to offer him?"Belle nodded, the wheels spinning in her head. Making a deal with Mr. Gold had been what had gotten her father involved with him in the first place and forced her into this mess. Was there no other way?

"Good luck, dear," Anderson said, obviously a dismissal.

"Thanks," Belle said softly.

She left and began walking. She and her father had very little—the only thing they really had to offer was the shop… It would be a huge sacrifice, but transferring ownership from her father to Mr. Gold was probably the only way.

When she arrived outside the door, she stopped, trying to plan what she would say to him. Belle couldn't remember ever interacting with him, other than to pass him the rent check. And even that she did rarely. More often than not, he came by when she was out and got the check from Mary Margaret. Belle really only knew about him based on hearsay (mostly from her father). Certainly he couldn't be as bad as people made him out to be.

She took a deep breath and walked into the shop. Mr. Gold, who was dressed impeccably in a suit, stood behind the counter writing something. "We're closed," he said without looking up.

"Mr. Gold?"

He looked up, his eyes slowly meeting hers.

"Mr. Gold, I'm Belle French. I'd like to speak with you about my father."

* * *

Gold looked down at the contract he was working on, which now had a large mark of ink in the middle of it—the moment his gaze had fallen on Miss Belle French, the pen had slipped and ruined the page. Thankfully he had always been fairly good at hiding emotion, so she had not noticed how her presence had rattled him.

He was not sure why the sight of Miss French caused him to get flustered. He was not the type to easily fall for a pretty face, no matter how intelligent or well-read she was. But something about this woman always made his heart beat faster every time she was near. He couldn't think of a single other person who had ever had that effect on him.

And she was far out of his league—beautiful, intelligent, and nearly twenty years his junior. His infatuation with her was completely ridiculous. So, he did the same thing that any prudent man in his situation would do.

He avoided her.

Gold had observed and found out Belle French's schedule. He knew that she worked in the library at Storybrooke Elementary School every weekday until noon. Several days a week, she would go to Granny's Diner for lunch, then spend a few hours working at Game of Thorns. On Thursdays, she ate dinner at her father's house after working at Game of Thorns. Gold made a point of avoiding Granny's between twelve and one everyday, and of collecting the rent check from her roommate only on Thursday evenings. He had managed to work around her schedule so that he wouldn't run into her.

Unfortunately, after the arrest of her father, it was inevitable that he would be forced to have some contact with her. Gold ignored his feelings of unease. Although he had been caught off guard when she walked into the store, she was now on his territory and he was determined to be in control.

"Miss French, do come in. What do you have in mind?" he asked, gazing into her eyes and walking towards her in what he thought was a predatory manner. Perhaps if he gave her his meanest gaze, she would go away.

Her eyes stayed on his, her body unflinching.

She wasn't afraid of him. That was new—nearly the entire town feared him.

"I'll do whatever necessary if you don't press charges against my father. In exchange for his freedom, we are willing to turn our family shop over to you. I believe that will more than pay back all of his debts."

Gold thought about the flower shop. Truly this desperate woman probably considered giving up her father's business to be a huge sacrifice. "Interesting idea, Miss French. However, I'm not in the habit of opening my heart to save failing businesses."

Her face fell at his cutting remark, and he knew that his observation, however true, had stung. It was common knowledge in the town that Moe French's mismanagement of Game of Thorns had been running the shop into the ground. Gold knew firsthand how much debt Moe French was truly in over his shop, for he had lent him the money in the first place.

"I have another proposition for you, Miss French. You will work for me." He didn't realize that he had spoken until the words left his mouth. It was as though an outside force had taken control of his tongue and forced him to say something that would surely change his peaceful life completely.

So much for avoiding her. Unfortunately, he had already spoken and couldn't take back his words now. Hopefully she would refuse.

"I need both a housekeeper and additional help in the shop. I'm frequently out on business, so you can take care of customers during those times."He didn't add that he averaged fewer than ten paying customers a week; she would figure out soon enough how few people actually came in to shop.

Most people only came to the store because they wanted something from him.

"My father stole from you; how do you know I can be trusted not to do the same?"

He chuckled. He didn't actually know that, but for some reason he was certain that she wouldn't do anything wrong. Several years earlier, he had contracted a cleaning service for both his home and shop only to have the service shut down after several expensive items had gone missing (thankfully all had been recovered). Since then, he had been forced to do the work himself. He wasn't sure why he expected Belle French to be any different from the people who had stolen from him in the past, but something about her struck him as honest and pure. His instincts were almost never wrong about people.

"Call it intuition, my dear."

"I have another job, so I can't be here at all times."

"You finish at the school around noon each day, right?" She nodded, her eyes big, questioning. _Wondering how he knew so much about her_. "I make it my business to know as much as possible about everyone in town," he stated in response to her unspoken question. It was partially true, although he certainly knew more about her than he should.

"I'd like you to come here at twelve thirty every day during the week and work until eight in the evening. You'll clean both here and at my house, mind the shop, and cook dinner. On Saturdays, you will work starting at eight. You may have Sundays off."

She nodded. Was she actually amenable to the deal? He had tried many times to find help in the shop; all had failed. "And how long will I need to do this before my father's debts are paid off?"

"Two years."

She was quiet for a few moments. _Probably realizing that she would have to waste two years of her life working for the town's biggest villain._

"So, if I work for you, you'll drop all charges and my father's debts to you will be paid off?"

"You have my word. Although don't expect me to lend him money anytime soon."

"Fine. It's a deal." She held out her hand.

Adrenaline rushed through him, as it always did when somebody agreed to a deal. If he ignored the nagging feeling that told him to stay away from her, he would be particularly thrilled. This one was definitely in his favor, and it was a testament to her desperation that she had agreed. He reached his hand towards hers then stopped short of touching her.

"Are you sure, my dear? Some people would say that making a deal with me is akin to making a deal with the Devil himself."

"I don't believe the ridiculous gossip of the people in this town."

He smiled. Of course she didn't. Then he took her hand in his in a handshake.

Heat began coursing through his body at her touch, a sudden wave of longing hitting him. He quickly pulled his hand away. He met her eyes, expecting to see disgust (an emotion people often felt around him) or dread. Her face was flushed. Had she felt something too? Gold quickly brushed it off. He was certainly imagining something that was not there.

"Thank you," she said, "for agreeing to this."

He was surprised at her gratitude—she was going to be doing menial labor for him, after all. He was clearly getting the better end of the deal.

Rarely did people come to him to ask for help for someone else. Few people in Storybrooke would be willing to give up two years of their life to help a loved one. She was probably the only one who would do so in service to the town's most disliked resident.

"I'll draw up paperwork for our deal tonight. Come here tomorrow to sign the contract as soon as you get off work. After you do so, I'll contact the DA to drop the charges against your father. You can start the next day."

Miss French nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow." She turned around and left the shop, the bell of the door jingling behind her. Five minutes after she left, Gold was still staring at the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thank you kindly to all who read and reviewed the first chapter. For those who were wondering, this story is set in the time before Emma comes to town. She'll show up eventually, though!

**To Which Fate Binds: Chapter 2**

Belle turned the papers over in her hands. She had read through the contract slowly and carefully, checking for loopholes or anything else that might be unfavorable to her. Then she reread it.

The conditions of her father's release and the forgiveness of his debts were clearly outlined and she was meant to work at both his shop and home. It specified the date that she started and ended. She turned to the front page once again.

Mr. Gold was watching her, his eyes boring into her. "Is reading the contract three times really necessary, Miss French? It's completely legal."

Belle scowled at him. She had heard of deals with Mr. Gold going wrong and didn't want to take any chances. "I have no doubt of the contract's legality, Mr. Gold. Because this document will substantially affect my life, I'm sure you cannot fault me for looking it over thoroughly."

Surprisingly, he chuckled. "I apologize for my impatience, Miss French. It's so rare that anyone in this town bothers to give a binding contract more than a passing glance."

She turned back to the papers until she found the part that had bothered her during the first two readings. "I have an issue with this," she said, underlining a sentence on the second page. "It says that I am required to cook, clean, do inventory, take care of customers, and attend to all other duties assigned by you. 'All other duties' is very vague. I'd like that part taken out."

He looked shocked that she actually suggested a modification to his contract. "Miss French, do you really think that you are in a position to be negotiating?"

"Perhaps not, but I don't want there to be any room for you to require me to do anything unseemly."

He smirked. "Fear not, Miss French; your virtue is safe from me." He crossed out the last part of the sentence and initialed next to it.

When she was finally satisfied with the rest of the contract, Belle turned to the signature page. _Adrian Gold_ was signed with a flourish, immediately drawing her eye. She wrote her signature neatly in the space beneath. "I'm finished, Mr. Gold." She gave the papers back to him.

He handed her a duplicate of their contract. "Give me a few hours, Miss French. The sheriff will contact you when your father is ready to go."

"Thank you, Mr. Gold."

* * *

After leaving the shop, Belle spent several hours staring at her cell phone, willing it to ring. She felt sick, thinking of all the things that could go wrong. What if Mr. Gold didn't come through? What if her father had to stand trial? Where would she get a decent lawyer?

She was in a panic by the time her phone rang.

"Hello?" she said, trying not to let her voice shake.

"Belle, it's Dad. Graham just got a call from the DA—he says I'm free to go."

The weight that had been heavy on her heart lifted. What a relief! "Thank goodness!" Belle said. "Don't leave; I'll be right there." She practically ran to the police station.

Moe French was sitting in a chair in front of the sheriff's desk when she arrived. His face was drawn, and there were dark circles under his eyes. But he was a free man. Belle hugged him, tears of joy springing to her eyes. "Let's go home, Dad."

She and her father said their goodbyes to Graham and walked out of the station.

The moment they were outside, her father grabbed her by the wrist. "How did you get him to let me go? What did you do?"

It took her a moment to realize that he was irate. She had expected him to be happy! "Mr. Gold and I made a deal, Dad," she said, surprised at his harsh tone. Her father began walking furiously, his hand still on her arm. She had to quicken her stride to keep up with him.

"What deal?" he asked through clenched teeth. Then something occurred to him. "You gave him the shop, didn't you? Oh, Belle, you didn't! Why didn't you ask me first? You should have contacted a lawyer like I asked. How could you—"

"I didn't give him the shop, Dad." Suddenly they were in front of the door to Mr. Gold's pawnshop. Her father let go of her.

"You didn't? Then what did you give him?"

"I'm going to work for him."

"Doing what?" her father asked. "I can only imagine what he would want a pretty young woman to do for him."

She scowled at his insinuation. "Dad! You know I would never agree to something like that. I'll be cleaning, cooking, and working in the store."

"Absolutely not. I refuse to allow you anywhere near that monster."

"I don't think he's nearly as bad as you believe, Dad. Besides, there's nothing you can do now. The deal has already been made."

Moe forcefully opened the door of the shop, hopefully not breaking it in the process.

"Aw, Mr. French. I've been expecting you," Mr. Gold said as they walked in. "Miss French," he said with a nod in her direction. Moe barreled over to him, ready to pounce. "I assume you're here in an attempt to break your daughter's contract," Gold said with a glint in his eye. Moe was taken aback for a moment. Then he slammed his fist on the counter.

At the rate he was going, he would be thrown in jail yet again for destruction of property.

"Dammit, Gold, how dare you pull my daughter into this? I'd like you to nullify the contract immediately. I'll happily spend many years in prison if it means that Belle is safe from the likes of you."

"How noble of you. Unfortunately, the contract has already been signed. It's between your daughter and I; your opinion of the matter is completely irrelevant."

"Well, Belle's not going to do it," he said. "I won't let her."

"Dad! I am going to, and there's nothing you can do to stop me. This is my choice." She lifted her chin up, looking her father straight in the eye.

"And I'm certainly not going back on my end of this deal," Gold said with a sneer. "Now, unless you're planning to make a purchase, Mr. French, I would suggest you leave before I have the sheriff arrest you for trespassing."

"Let's go, Dad," Belle said as she grabbed his arm. She led her father from the store and closed the door behind them softly.

"I'm so sorry, Belle. Had I only known…"

Belle put her hand on his arm, and spoke gently. "Dad, it's fine. I'll be okay. Just a little busier than normal."

"Is there nothing I can say to stop you from doing this?"

"I've made my decision and I stand by it. Now why don't you go home and rest, and I'll be over to make dinner at six tonight. I love you." She kissed him on the cheek. He walked away, defeated.

* * *

Dinner that evening had been full of tension, which only added to her apprehension about working for Mr. Gold. By the time noon came the next day, Belle was a nervous wreck. She sat in the school library, trying to gain her composure before setting off to the pawnshop. Thankfully the children were all at lunch so she was alone.

Mary Margaret popped her head into the library. "Do you want to get something to eat?"

"No, thanks. I start a new job this afternoon. I'll pick up something on the way." Belle didn't tell her the truth—that her stomach was tied up in knots and that she had no appetite.

"A new job? Where?"

"I'll be working for Mr. Gold. I made a deal with him to help my father."

"Mr. Gold?" she said with a gasp. "Belle, are you sure about this? I've heard…"

"…that he steals children at night and eats them alive? Mary Margaret, I've heard all of the rumors and I'm sure he's not nearly as horrible as people make him out to be." At least that's what she kept telling herself; whether or not she could convince herself of it was another story.

Mary Margaret gave an uneasy laugh. "I know that one's not true. But I have heard that he can make your life miserable if you get on his bad side."

"As my dad found out. It's really the only way to get my dad's freedom."

Mary Margaret nodded. "I understand, but I still don't like it. Just know that I'm here for you if you need help. Or if you ever just want to vent about your horrible boss."

Belle smiled. "Thanks for being such a good friend. I'll see you later tonight."

"Call me if you need anything. Good luck!"

After Mary Margaret left, Belle dawdled, tidying up her desk, finishing up paperwork that could have waited another week, cleaning out her purse. When she knew that she could no longer put it off (at 12:20, giving her exactly ten minutes to get to a place that was a five minute walk away), she left.

Belle arrived at the shop at exactly 12:26, hoping that getting there four minutes early showed her to be a responsible, but not overly eager, worker.

Regina Mills was at the counter talking to a bored-looking Mr. Gold when she walked in. His eyes met Belle's. "Sorry, Ms. Mills," Mr. Gold said without taking his glance from Belle, "but I have other business to attend to. We can continue this conversation at another time."

Regina sighed. "Fine." She turned around. "Miss French." Her eyebrows lifted in what appeared to be surprise. She looked from Belle to Gold then back at Belle. "How lovely to see you again. How have you been since the last time we spoke?"

The last time they had spoken was the previous year when Regina closed down the library and demoted her from full-time librarian of the Storybrooke Public Library to part-time school librarian, a job which had lower wages and no benefits.

"Absolutely wonderful, Ms. Mills. How kind of you to ask."

Regina looked at her as if uncertain if Belle was mocking her or just being polite. It was politeness, but Belle still smirked inwardly at Regina's expression. Regina Mills was by far her least favorite person in town, especially now that she knew how Regina had encouraged her father to steal.

"Well, I must be going. I'll be by later, Mr. Gold."

"I'll be here awaiting your next request, Madam Mayor," he said dryly. Regina frowned at his sarcasm, but left the shop without a word.

Something changed when the door closed behind her.

The air was thick with silence. Belle began taking in his appearance—brown hair, a perfectly ironed suit, gold teeth, cane in his hand and dark eyes, watching her intently.

Her heartbeat quickened as she took a few steps towards him, the soft click of her heels the only sound in the shop. His eyes never left her face as she stepped closer. Belle didn't know what was pushing her forward, but she felt as though she was in a trance.

However, she quickly snapped out of it as her thigh bumped a table, causing the globe atop it to wobble. Belle let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding as she took her eyes from him and put her hand on top of the globe to stop it from moving.

"I suppose you should tell me exactly what it is you'd like me to do here," she said, still looking at the globe.

"Yes," he responded. He took a deep breath. "Yes, that's right. As you know, I need you to clean both here and at my home. I'll take you there later. When I'm out, you'll watch the shop. You will help me take inventory and organize the all of objects in the basement. There are dozens of boxes and I haven't had the chance to sort through them. And then there are the books. I have hundreds, maybe even thousands, of books and I don't know what to do with them. But hopefully with your background, you can determine which ones are valuable and which are not."

He wanted her to work with books? Belle tried to hide her excitement at the task ahead of her. It was still indentured servitude, after all. While most people would find sorting through old books in a dusty basement to be completely dull, she could spend hours doing it without getting tired.

"I'd be happy to do that, Mr. Gold."

He walked past her to the sign on the door to Closed then gestured to her. "I'll show you around."

Gold led her through a back room with a typewriter and a few shelves with various artifacts, both new and old: a grandfather clock, a statuette of a dancing lady, several plates, a Mickey Mouse doll, and a spinning wheel, among other things. The next room was smaller, and contained a table with two chairs, a sofa, a kitchenette, and a boarded up window. Her heart sank when she realized that the window had been broken by her father.

There was also a door to the basement, which he opened before leading her down the steps. Belle gasped in excitement upon seeing it. He hadn't been exaggerating. Stacks of books lined the walls and boxes covered nearly all of the floor space. She looked at one open box, which contained a dozen books that appeared to be first editions and other rare copies. There were books in English and other languages she couldn't even venture a guess at.

"Where did you get these? Some of them are so hard to find!"

"Here and there. Estate sales, people around the town."

"You can almost open your own used bookstore!" Belle said with excitement. "In fact, if you want to start marketing your shop as an antique bookstore, you'll attract people from all over the state."

"A lofty goal for the future. But right now we should just concentrate on taking inventory of things in the basement. Including the objects that are not books. "

"Of course." She looked around. There were many boxes filled with trinkets that held little interest for her and were not nearly as exciting as the dusty leather tomes.

He took her back upstairs and showed her the procedure for making sales to customers and how he did inventory. Even though she couldn't help but think his life would be a lot easier if he tried to computerize everything, Belle kept her mouth shut. It wouldn't do to criticize the way he ran his shop on her very first day. He was the richest and most successful business owner in town and had to be doing something right.

"Since all of the broken glass from the damage your father did has already been cleaned up—" Was it really necessary for him to remind her? "—you can start in the back room. It hasn't been dusted in a few years." He showed her where he the cleaning supplies and then went to the front of the shop. Belle began working, furiously dusting and scrubbing. Unfortunately, she was still in the blouse and slacks that she had worn to work that morning; hopefully they wouldn't be ruined from the dirt. Maybe she could stop by her apartment to change her clothes.

After about an hour, she realized that she was not alone. When Belle turned around, kept she found Mr. Gold's eyes on her. How long had he been standing there? His presence was rather unnerving. "Did you have lunch?" he asked.

She suddenly realized how hungry she was. She had planned on eating on her way to the shop, but had forgotten in her nervousness. "Er, no."

"I'm ordering from Granny's Diner, what would you like?"

Belle wasn't sure which was odder—the thought of Mr. Gold eating diner food (he seemed like the type to prefer caviar and champagne for every meal), or the fact that he had offered food to her.

"I don't need anything, but thank you for asking."

"If you collapse due to low blood sugar, there will be stories flying around town about dangerous and intolerable working conditions in my shop, so I really must insist. I can't have the townspeople thinking that I keep you locked up and starving in the basement."

Belle laughed, which hopefully was an appropriate response to his comment. "In that case, I suppose I can't refuse. I'd like a turkey sandwich."

He left the room and she continued cleaning until he returned with a bag of food. "Take a break," he said as he walked in the room. She followed him into the second room and washed her hands at the sink.

Mr. Gold set the food down on the table and sat down. He wanted her to eat with him? She hesitated for a moment, then awkwardly took the chair across from him. If someone had told her a week earlier that she would be eating take out with Mr. Gold, she would have laughed at them. The situation was really strange. Belle unwrapped her sandwich and began eating. Finally after a few minutes, she broke the silence. "How much do I owe you for lunch?"

"Think of it as one of your benefits. I get free meals from Mrs. Lucas in exchange for a reduction in rent."

"Thank you," she said softly. She wondered what Granny thought about providing food for Belle and made a mental note to ask about it.

"How many people in town do you have deals with?" she asked.

"Quite a few. Although you're the first I've ever hired in this capacity."

"Why me?" she asked. "I'm sure you've had other people who were desperate."

"Yes, you're right," he said. "You're not the only person that I've ever offered a job to. However, you're the first who decided to take it. The others preferred debt collectors and jail time over working for me."

Belle was silent for a few moments. "I don't think you're nearly as bad as people make you out to be. It was very kind of you to forgo pressing charges against my father. He's a good man, despite some poor decisions he's made. He is truly remorseful about letting his anger get the best of him. I appreciate your leniency. And he does too, despite his behavior yesterday."

Gold gazed at her intensely for a few moments then stood. He looked away from her. "Miss French, don't fool yourself into thinking I do anything out of kindness. Your father's fate is inconsequential to me. However, having someone willing to work for me and do the tedious tasks that I prefer to avoid is extremely valuable."

"Of course," she mumbled, even though she didn't believe him.

"You should get back to cleaning."

"Thank you… for lunch."

He grunted in response as he left the room.

As she continued her work, her mind kept drifting back to her new boss. He was a mystery and she truly did not understand him. Before today, she had not spent any time with him and only knew about him based on her father's experience. Her opinion had been less than favorable. And it also seemed that he wanted her to think poorly of him. But for some reason, she didn't. His words to her only made her more determined to find out as much as she could about him. Perhaps if she looked a little deeper, she might just find that there was a good man hiding beneath his cold and selfish façade.


	3. Chapter 3

**To Which Fate Binds: Chapter 3**

Within a few hours, the back room of the shop looked almost presentable. She hoped that it would meet Mr. Gold's undoubtedly very high standards. As she opened the curtain to walk into the main part of the store, she found herself face to face with him.

"Mr. Gold!" She jumped back in alarm. "I-I just finished."

He looked around and nodded. "It looks much better." Belle breathed a sigh of relief. She had been worried that he would try to find something to criticize. "I have a lot more for you to do around the store, but I should probably show you the duties I have for you at my house."

He drove the two of them to his house, only a few blocks from the store. "Your house looks like it's right out of a fairy tale!" she said when they pulled up to it. She had expected a stately and ostentatious manor, not the pretty Victorian home in front of her. Sure, it was large, but it was also very charming. He gave her an odd look, as if not sure if he was being complimented or teased.

"I love it," she added. "It's beautiful." Gold led her inside (and ignored her gushing about how lovely the door was) to the living room.

Belle looked around—there were so many interesting artifacts in his house! Statues, paintings, small trinkets and other fascinating objects filled the room. She couldn't wait to get a closer look at everything. The furniture was dusty and worn and the living room was in need of a good scrubbing. Gold took one of the great armchairs and she sat across from him on the sofa.

"I suppose you can see that I haven't had the house cleaned in quite some time. I rarely use the upper floor of the house so you can start cleaning the downstairs today. How's your cooking?"

"Um, fine, I guess. I used to make dinner for myself and my father every day until I moved out. He never complained."

"Good." They spent a few minutes going over food preferences and she began making a shopping list. "When you go to pay for the food, tell Mr. Green that you're buying on my behalf." Another deal, no doubt. It seemed that everyone in town had something going on with him. He reached into his pocket and gave her a keyring. "When you leave to go to the market, please lock the door behind you. The big keys are for the front door of my house and the store, and the small ones are for the glass cabinets in the store." She looked at him in surprise. He actually trusted her enough to give her almost unlimited access to his home and store? "I'm going back to the shop. I'll be back at seven for dinner."

He left and Belle began going through the kitchen to see what he already had. Within five minutes, she had a garbage bag full of expired food and old takeout boxes—it was clear that Mr. Gold didn't cook often. She wondered how often he ate alone and almost felt sorry for him. How sad it must be to come home to an empty house every day! She began wondering about his past—had he ever been married? Did he have any children?

Belle knew that she would not ask those questions, and he certainly wouldn't volunteer the information, so she would never know the answer. As she began cleaning the first floor of the house, she saw no photographs or any other personal items. His bedroom was tastefully decorated but had no pictures or mementos and was as impersonal as a hotel room. In fact, the only signs that the home even belonged to Mr. Gold were a framed law degree in his study and a spare cane that leaned against the wall of the bedroom. Aside from those two things, the house could have been anybody's.

After a few hours, Belle had barely even made a dent in the cleaning she would have to do. It would be a few days before she finished the lower level of the house. Now she had to stop to get food for Mr. Gold's dinner.

When Belle arrived at the grocery store, she was almost immediately cornered by Justin Thompson, the son of one of her father's friends. They had dated in the past and he was still convinced that she was interested, despite her repeated pleas otherwise. Her father's attitude certainly didn't help; Moe French saw Justin as his future son-in-law.

"Belle, I'm so glad I ran into you!" he said. "I was ready to come and check on you. Your father said you had taken a job with Mr. Gold. If he does anything to harm you…"

"Thank you for your concern, Justin, but it's completely fine." While some might think it was sweet that Justin thought she needed his protection, Belle found it rather annoying. He was one of the most chauvinistic men in town. She had broken off their short-lived relationship because of his constant complaints that she worked too hard at the library. In fact, he had been one of Regina Mills' biggest supporters in the closing of the library. "Mr. Gold has been very kind so far and there's nothing to be worried about. I need to get back to shopping."

"I'll stop by whenever I can. Please don't hesitate to contact me if you need anything."

"I'll do that, Justin." She tried to sound sincere even though she knew that she would never take him up on it. "But, it might not look professional to have people visiting me at my job. I don't think Mr. Gold would like it."

"I'm not scared of him, no matter what people say. I'll come by tomorrow." Belle suppressed the urge to throw her hands up in aggravation. Her ex-boyfriend was stubborn, and there would be no talking him out of stopping by. She could only hope that Mr. Gold was out of the store at the time Justin came to see her.

Justin wasn't a bad person and he _was_ well-meaning… he just wasn't the right man for her. She certainly had never asked him to protect her from the evils of the world, and found his actions to be a major annoyance. Justin was one of the most handsome men in town and he knew it. He considered her one of the prettiest girls in Storybrooke and thought it only natural that the two of them should get married and have many beautiful children. She did not agree, knowing that she never would love him, no matter how much he tried to charm her. While they dated, he had not been overly unkind to her, had never abused her or cheated on her. But at the same time, he also had never made her laugh, had never cared about her interests, and never had an intelligent conversation with her. She refused to settle for someone like him.

Belle was convinced that she could only love a man who surprised her and challenged her, one who had many layers to his personality. She needed someone with whom she had both an emotional and intellectual connection. Gaston was certainly not such a man and Belle was convinced that nobody else in Storybrooke was either. In fact, she wasn't sure if such a man existed at all.

* * *

Gold was having a rather trying day. The first irritation occurred when yet another one of his debtors had defaulted on a loan. In the end, there were several new items added to the pawnshop, but Gold still didn't understand why people insisted on borrowing money that they had no intention of repaying. Then the mayor had visited to annoy him with a discussion about zoning laws and one of his properties. The arrival of Belle French had only postponed their discussion as Regina Mills returned the moment he went back to the store alone. She insisted on complaining and nagging about his property for over an hour, before telling him that he just needed to pay a fine, which she could have done in less than thirty seconds.

And then there was his newest employee. The day he had made the deal, he had thought that he was the one who would benefit most from it. Today, he was rethinking it. Even though his end of the deal had been rather easy (calling in one of his many favors to DA Spencer had taken only a few minutes, and all of the costs of damages were covered by insurance), he was concerned that having her work with him was going to be more difficult than expected.

While it was a relief to be rid of the dirt that had covered the back room for so many years, she was a distraction. She wasn't noisy or troublesome, but her presence put him on his guard. Not because he thought that she would steal or break important items, but because of his unexplained attraction to her. Gold had no idea where this feeling had come from, but it had been present for as long as he'd known of her. He had kept away from her for that purpose. Being in close proximity to her had definitely not helped; it had only made him want to get closer to her, which he knew would be extremely unwelcome by her.

And now he was going home to where she would be serving him dinner. The idea of a woman, a beautiful woman that he desired, being in his home was unsettling. He couldn't think of the last time a woman had made a home-cooked meal for him—perhaps Michelle, his ex-wife, had at some point, but he couldn't remember anything specific.

When he opened the door to his home, Gold was greeted by the aroma of basil and rosemary. The smell of anything cooking in this house was completely foreign to him. Despite being a decent chef, preparing a meal for one person had always felt like more trouble than it was worth.

Gold stopped and stared when he came into view of the kitchen. Miss French was humming as she sautéed vegetables in the skillet. She had tied back her brown curls in a ponytail and changed into jeans and a sweater. Something about her casual manner pulled at his heart, creating a yearning to come home to this every day.

He supposed he would be coming home to her, but wished it was because she wanted it, not because of a deal they had. His heart began pounding as she lifted her face to look at him, as her sparkling blue eyes met his. She smiled at him—for what reason, he could not fathom. "Hello, Mr. Gold! I'll have the food ready for you in just one minute."

He nodded and walked into the other room. He took a deep breath. His heart was beating way too fast—the idea of the woman he had been infatuated with for so long being in his home was almost too much.

The table was set for one, and he began realizing—not for the first time—how pathetic he was, how pathetic _she_ must think him. Gold sat and then sipped the water that she had set out for him. He was tempted to get something stronger to settle his nerves, but decided she didn't need to know all of his vices on her first day on the job. True to her word, she walked in with a platter of chicken and vegetables only about a minute later.

"It smells wonderful," he said in his best attempt to be cordial (something he was not too well versed in). He ate a few bites, surprised that it actually was rather good. Then he spent several minutes staring at the empty chair across from him, thinking about how much he didn't want to eat alone. He could hear Miss French working in the kitchen. It took him several more minutes to strike up the nerve to grab his cane and walk over to the kitchen, prepared to ask her to join him. She was scrubbing a pan in the sink. He took a deep breath, ready to speak.

"Is something wrong?" she asked before he could say anything. She was so young, smart, cheerful, and pretty, far too good for an old cripple like him. Cowardice overpowered the earlier flash of bravery that had caused him to walk in here. He thought back to the modification she made to their employment contract. The idea of him using her for his own carnal desires had occurred to her and repulsed her. She probably already thought him creepy and old; how ridiculous it was that he almost invited her to dine with him! She would never agree, unless she felt obligated to do so, which might even be worse than outright rejection.

"N-no, there's nothing wrong," he said. He sounded like an idiot, stuttering over his words. "I always have tea after dinner. Can you boil the water for it? I'll show you how to make it when I finish eating."

"Absolutely. Enjoy the rest of your meal."

He went back to his chair in dejection. At least he hadn't made a complete fool of himself. However, the realization that his feelings for this woman would forever go unrequited caused a strange ache in his chest. Not that he had thought they had a chance in the first place, but it hadn't really sunk in how much he longed for things to be different until now. He finished his meal without really tasting it. He knew from the first few bites that it was good, but had not gotten a lot of enjoyment out of it. Gold stood and walked back to the kitchen where she was wiping off the counters.

"How was your dinner?" she asked.

"Delicious," he told her, giving her a small smile. He excelled at hiding his emotions, and was grateful for that now. "You're an excellent cook." She blushed demurely, looking even more appealing. He began taking out all of the items he needed for tea. "I'm very particular about how I take my tea. I don't like using teabags."

"Me neither," she said with a grin. "I thought I was the only one in town." He nearly smiled back at her. He had assumed _he_ was the only one in town. "Why don't I start making it, and you can stop me if you want me to change something?"

He nodded and stood back. It was mesmerizing to watch her measure the tea leaves—she used the exact same ratio of tea to water that he did. It was as though he had taught her how to make tea himself—but of course that was ridiculous.

He watched as she poured it into the teacup that he had taken out. "This cup is chipped," she said, lifting it up. "Would you like me to get another one?"

"I like this one. It has character."

She laughed. "You're a strange man, Mr. Gold."

He was shocked for a moment—nobody had ever spoken to him like that before. Her face turned red and she looked very uneasy… until he started laughing. "I suppose I am," he said. He didn't know why he preferred the little chipped teacup. He had found it in one of the boxes he had picked up at an estate sale and known immediately that it would never sell-not only was it cracked, but the rest of the tea set that went along with it was missing. He had planned on throwing it away, but couldn't bring himself to do it for some reason. Instead, he had taken the lonely cup and begun using it almost every night.

She handed him the cup. After adding a small amount of milk and sugar, he took a sip of the tea, realizing that it was not only good, but actually tasted better than when he made it for himself, even though she had used the exact same method. "Does it meet your specifications?" she asked.

"Yes," he said with a nod. "It certainly does. It's perfect."

"I'm glad." Another smile. What was wrong with her? People never smiled at him.

Still, he found himself smiling back at her.

"Then I'll be going now. Good night, Mr. Gold."

"Good night, Miss French," he said as she left. The house suddenly felt too big and too empty, despite all of the antiques that filled it. Throughout all of his years in Storybrooke, he had always enjoyed keeping to himself, but as he heard the front door close behind her, he felt for the first time that he didn't want to spend the rest of the evening in solitude.


	4. Chapter 4

**To Which Fate Binds: Chapter 4**

Adrian Gold had never been much of a morning person. He was not particularly fond of rising before the sun, and therefore always dreaded Saturday mornings, when the shop opened at eight thirty instead of ten.

Belle French, on the other hand, was most certainly a morning person. On her first Saturday working for him, she was already waiting in front of the pawnshop door when he arrived at seven twenty five. Her eyes were bright, her voice was cheery, and she held two thermoses. "I wasn't sure if you'd want coffee. If you don't, it's fine, but I still thought I'd bring it to you."

He was completely shocked by her gesture, so much so that he wondered momentarily if he was still in bed having a pleasant dream. There was absolutely no reason for her to be bringing him anything without a request from him and he didn't know what to make of it. "Thank you, Miss French," he said, giving her a small smile. "I do like coffee in the morning." Even if he had hated coffee, he would have forced himself to drink and enjoy it just because it was from her.

She was certainly making it difficult for him to not be infatuated with her.

He unlocked the door then took the proffered coffee. "Why are you here so early? You're not scheduled to come in until eight," he said, stifling a yawn.

"I knew that you would get here around seven thirty—" How could she know such a thing? "—so I decided to come early too. I have a lot of cleaning to do and I think it would be easier before the store opens."

"You do realize, Miss French, that you still have to work until eight tonight?"

"Of course. I don't mind." Twelve and a half hours. That would be the amount of time she would be working for him today. He was prepared for it to be absolutely torturous. During the week, the mornings had been bearable because he could put the strange and uncomfortable feelings he had for her in the back of his mind. But when she was around , it was completely impossible for him to stay focused.

She began cleaning and he went behind the curtain into the back room, where he sat down and took a few sips of coffee. He didn't really have a lot to do in the shop now that she was here. He might even be able to do some of the work he had planned to save for Sunday, the only day the store was closed.

Gold began to read through a contract he had drafted the previous evening. Yet another desperate soul had come to him in the hopes of borrowing money; hopefully this one would actually pay him back on time. A large percentage of the town had borrowed from him at some point; thankfully, most people actually understood the concept of repaying a loan, but there were always a few who didn't or couldn't. Gold had a long list of people he refused to loan money to after negative experiences (Moe French was one of the most recent additions to it). People hated him because of his inflexibility about extensions for loans and rent but he rationalized that every single one of them had signed a contract and were completely aware of the payment due date.

Gold emerged from the back room at exactly half past eight, and was pleased to see that the front of the store looked nicer than it had in many years. She had not only cleaned, but also moved a few things around. He should have been annoyed that she was taking liberties with his merchandise, but for some reason he liked it better after she made her changes. He didn't say anything to her, as she was hard at work organizing the jewelry in one of the glass cases. Gold walked to the front of the store, turned the sign to Open, then returned to the back room without saying a word.

About fifteen minutes later, an elderly couple came in to browse. Gold peeked through the curtain as he heard the bell ring, opting to allow Miss French to deal with them. He disliked the Saturday morning customers—most of them liked to look around and touch things without any intention of buying anything. They seemed to arrive in droves every week. On the rare occasions that they were actually interested in buying, they would try to bargain him down to ridiculously low prices.

"Hi, may I help you find anything?" Miss French asked.

"Oh no, we're just browsing. We like to spend weekends driving around Maine looking for antiques," the woman said.

He listened from the back as Miss French animatedly conversed with them and pretended to be interested in their dull lives. After about thirty minutes of inane chitchat, the couple ended up buying an old grandfather clock at full price. He was surprised but thought it was a fluke—until she made sales to the next three customers who came into the store. And they weren't just small sales—they were big ticket items: furniture, antique jewelry, and a lamp that even he had to admit was a bit overpriced.

He came out of the back after the last customer left. "You've sold several thousand dollars' worth of merchandise so far, and it's not even noon," he said, slightly impressed.

"That's not normal?" she said.

"Definitely not. Perhaps I should give you a raise," he said, in an uncharacteristically playful manner, a sly smile on his face.

"You mean I can order a drink to go along with my lunch?"

Was she joking with him?

He laughed, then she joined him. Laughing with another person was something he couldn't remember ever doing until now. "Speaking of lunch, I'm about to call in an order at Granny's and I was wondering what you'd like to eat. And drink, of course."

She smiled at him, causing his heart to skip a beat. "A cheeseburger and an iced tea, please."

While he was on the phone with Granny's, another customer came in and began browsing around. The customer was rather annoying, spending over thirty minutes asking Miss French to open every cabinet so that she could try on all of the necklaces, bracelets, and rings. However, his new assistant was pleasant and patient with the woman, even though she didn't end up buying anything.

Could it be that she actually enjoyed working with the customers? He saw it as a necessary evil of owning a shop, being polite but not being friendly or welcoming conversation. Her manner was so different than his own.

After the woman left the shop, Ruby Lucas walked in with a bag of food and two cups in her hands.

"Ruby! Hi!" Miss French said as the girl walked through the door.

"Belle, I'm so glad to see you!" She gave his assistant a hug. _Relieved that she wasn't being abused in the back of the store, no doubt._

Miss French took the bag and drinks, then walked into the back.

"Mr. Gold," Ruby Lucas hissed after her friend had left, "Belle is one of the sweetest people in town and also one of my best friends. If you do anything to harm her, you can be sure that there will be consequences."

Unfortunately for Miss Lucas, Gold found her threat to him more humorous than intimidating. "Oh? I'm very curious to know what those consequences are," he said with a smirk. Ruby Lucas didn't answer, instead stepping back slightly when his eyes focused on her. He didn't hide his amusement, which was obviously not the reaction she was hoping for. "I assure you, Miss Lucas, your friend is quite safe from me."

"I hope that's true. She's one of the few good people in this town and she deserves to be treated well."

"While your concern for her is touching," he said sarcastically, "I don't plan corrupting her with my immoral behavior or exploiting her in any way. I just need her to clean. Now goodbye."

After one last glare in his direction, Ruby Lucas left with a frown on her face. Gold turned the sign to Closed and walked into the back room, where Miss French was already eating.

"Your friend seems very concerned about your wellbeing at this job," he said. "I don't suppose you told her about the children I keep locked up in the basement of my house."

She nearly choked on her iced tea.

"That was a joke," Gold told her.

She gave a nervous laugh. "Oh. I wasn't expecting it."

The two continued chatting about mundane topics, but she seemed a little less forthcoming than she had been that morning and the past few days. Perhaps his little quip had reminded her of the things the townspeople said about him.

He supposed that his reputation had preceded him. Obviously she had heard the stories that he had kidnapped children, which were untrue (although he had helped put several babies up for adoption, legally, of course). She likely thought he was a monster just like everyone else, even though she hid it better than most people. It didn't matter—just because he was ridiculously attracted to her didn't mean that he would unrealistically expect her to be any different from the rest of the town. Her opinion was completely unimportant to him.

At least that's what he told himself.

* * *

Belle was truly enjoying working in the shop that day. The customers had all been friendly and Mr. Gold seemed truly impressed by the number of them that had bought items that day. He stayed in the back almost the entire day. She wasn't sure what he was working on, but he had many piles of papers on his desk.

Business started dying down after lunch, and Belle used that time to continue organizing the front of the shop. She was on a stepladder when the bells for the door jingled.

"I'll be with you in just a moment," she said.

"Hi Belle."

"Justin!" Her heart sank. Of all of the people in the town, her ex-boyfriend was definitely the last one she wanted to see right now, or any other time. She stepped down from the ladder, and walked behind the counter, eager for a barrier between them. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm checking in on you." He lowered his voice. "Is Gold here right now?"

"Mr. Gold's in the back," she replied.

"How's the old bastard been treating you?"

"_Justin!_" she hissed. She remembered why she disliked him so much. He was quick to judge and once a judgment had been made, he would stubbornly refuse to budge. "He's been very good and kind to me so far."

He snorted in disbelief. "You don't have to lie just because you work for him. What time do you get off tonight?"

"Eight. But I've been working so hard, I think I'd like to just go home and relax with a book."

"Come on, Belle, don't be boring. Why would you read books when you can come out with me?"

"Justin, we've discussed this before. Now, I need to get back to work."

"But, Belle—"

"Mr. Thompson, please stop harassing my employee," Mr. Gold bellowed from behind her. She turned and saw him emerge from the curtain.

"Mr. Gold! I wasn't—"

"Please leave before I am forced to show you how much of a 'bastard' I really am."

Justin's face turned red. "Bye, Belle," he said quietly. Then he turned and walked out the door.

"Er, thanks for that," Belle said, uncertain what kind of reaction was warranted in a situation like this.

"Your boyfriend?" he asked.

"Ex-boyfriend." She wondered what Mr. Gold thought about her taste in men.

"I take it he doesn't share your love for books."

Belle sighed and shook her head. "He was the mayor's number one supporter in closing the library. He thought I spent too much time working there."

"Foolish boy. You're far too good for someone like him." Belle felt a blush creep up on her face. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before he turned away from her and went into the back room without saying another word.

Belle went back to the shelf she had been working on before being so rudely interrupted. She forced herself to concentrate on her goal of getting the store fixed up and not on the man in the next room. After a few minutes, she looked at it the shelf, pleased. It looked a lot less cluttered than before. Although Mr. Gold was an intelligent and capable businessman, he had not organized the shop in the most aesthetically pleasing manner. She hadn't asked for his permission to move anything, but figured that since he hadn't said anything about her adjustments yet, he couldn't really mind them too much.

"Miss French," he called to her a few minutes later. "Can you come in here for a moment please?"

Her heart pounded. Was he upset with her for some reason? Would he tell her to stop moving his items around? She walked slowly to the back.

"I've been working on the shop inventory. I'd like you to start going through the basement on Monday. Specifically, the books."

"Of course!" She was absolutely delighted.

"I'd like you to sort through them. Anything valuable or rare comes up into the shop. If you find any children's books, you may take them to the school library."

She smiled. "Really? Thanks, Mr. Gold."

"All of the books in the basement that weren't rare or expensive were intended to be donated to the library, but obviously that won't happen anymore, thanks to the idiots on our city council." Mr. Gold said dryly.

"You were willing to make such a large donation? Even though you could sell those books and make a profit?" Belle was surprised but pleased. She was right about him! Nobody who supported public literacy and helped their city library could be that terrible. And she would get new books for the school! "You truly are more generous than you lead people to believe, Mr. Gold."

"Hardly," he said. "I just don't like the idea of living in a town full of ignorant fools like your ex-boyfriend."

He really seemed to dislike it when she suggested that he wasn't horrible and was constantly trying to turn the conversation around out of his favor. Why was he so scared of showing people that there was good in him?

"Why do you use so much energy trying to convince others that you're a bad person?" Belle blurted out.

He didn't respond, instead turning his face away from her. Belle felt simultaneously concerned that he would be angry and pleased that she had rendered him speechless.

"You should get back to work," he said. Opting not to push her luck with any further comments, she went back through the curtain. Belle continued cleaning, unable to take her mind off her new boss. He was a puzzle to her, with his pretense of heartlessness and callousness and his refusal to admit that it was just that—a pretense.

Finally, she excused herself from the shop to go to his house, where the need for cleaning was far more urgent. Belle spent the rest of the afternoon working at his house, trying to clean as much of the downstairs as possible. It was only after she attacked the living room and study that she came upon another room, one that she had yet to set foot in. Belle opened the door and gasped. Shelves of books lined the walls, their spines begging to be touched. The room was dark, the curtains drawn, so Belle opened them. As sunlight streamed in, Belle began running her fingers over the books, reading the titles. She could spend hours just looking at the names of the books, without even needing to open them. One could tell a lot about a person by his or her reading preferences and she was extremely curious to find out more about the mysterious Mr. Gold.

Belle was grateful for the huge amount of dust on the shelves, for it gave her an excuse to look. She found herself dusting slowly, unable to take her eyes off of the titles.

One entire section of the room was devoted to law and another to business. Neither of those held much interest for her, especially since they told her things about Mr. Gold that she already knew, obvious things (that he was both an attorney and a business owner).

There were several books devoted to computers, which surprised her since he hadn't even bothered to computerize his shop. He did, however, have a computer in his study, which she supposed he used for contracts, leases and other paperwork.

In addition, there were dozens of travel books—for France, Great Britain, Italy, Japan, Russia… places that she had always dreamt of visiting if she only had the means of doing so. Had Mr. Gold had been to all of those places? Belle was envious; she had always wanted to travel to other parts of the world but had never even been able to leave the town, not even for school. She had gotten her library science master's degree in an online program that she had been able to do while working and living at home. Her father told her that she had been born and raised in Australia, but she remembered nothing about it. In fact, she didn't even have photographs from her time there and would have not believed that she had been born there if not for her accent. Belle wanted to go back there someday, not only to see a new place, but also in the hope of jogging her memory of her childhood.

The final bookcase that she looked at was entirely filled with fiction. In the twenty-five minutes (far too long for cleaning a few shelves, but he would never know) that she spent in that section, Belle found at least twenty books that she wanted to read. The eclectic collection of fiction was comprised of mysteries, crime thrillers, historical fiction, science fiction, and fantasy novels, in addition to the literary classics that graced most personal libraries.

Belle probably would have spent the entire rest of the day cleaning the library (even though it was now completely spotless) if she had not needed to make dinner for Mr. Gold.

He arrived home a few minutes before seven o'clock. "How was the rest of your day?" she asked when he greeted her in the kitchen, hoping to get him to talk a little bit more. It bothered her to work for someone she knew so little about and she was determined to know him better.

Luckily, he seemed to be in a good mood. "Do you remember that irritating customer who came in right before lunch and wanted to try on every piece of jewelry in the store?"

Belle laughed. "I certainly do. Did she come back?"

"She did. And after spending over a thousand dollars on an antique necklace and bracelet, she requested that I give you a promotion."

"She spent a thousand dollars on jewelry?" Belle had no idea where people got money like that. "I pay less than that for rent."

"As I am aware," he said. Of course, he was; he probably knew the financial situation of every single person in town.

She grinned devilishly. "So what position do you plan on promoting me to?"

He looked surprised at her playfulness for a moment, then smiled back. "Well, since you are already my lead sales associate, my head housekeeper, and my most senior employee, the only position I could possibly promote you to is store owner, but then you'd put the current store owner out of a job."

Belle laughed again. "We certainly couldn't have that." She turned over the meat that was on the stove, and—pleased that he hadn't left the kitchen—continued talking. "I discovered your library as I was dusting the house."

His lips quirked in another small smile, and she found that she rather enjoyed how it looked on his face. Making him smile was definitely something she needed to try to do more often. "I was wondering if you would mention it. It seems that I was correct in my assumption that you would bring it up at the earliest possible opportunity."

"Have you read all of those books?"

"Every single one. I don't suppose you'd like to borrow something?"

"I certainly would!" It was impossible to hide her enthusiasm. It was so rare for her to meet someone else who was an avid reader.

"You can get one after you finish cleaning up after dinner."

She turned back to the meal she was finishing. "Speaking of which, I'll bring out dinner in just a moment."

It took her a minute to realize that he hadn't left the room; in fact, he was watching her. She looked back at him, inquisitively.

"Miss French, would you—" He stopped.

"Yes?" she prompted.

He shook his head. "I apologize; I completely forgot what I going to say. It must not have been very important."

"Oh. Okay." She could tell that he was lying, and now she would probably spend the rest of the evening wondering what he had been about to ask her.

As Belle took the food into the other room, she stopped at the door and watched him for a moment. He appeared to be deep in thought, his brow furrowed as he stared at the chair across the table. He started as she set the tray down on the table in front of him, his eyes focusing back on her. "Do you need anything else?" she asked.

"No, thank you. The meal looks wonderful."

"Thank you," she said leaving the room. Belle began the dishes, willing herself not to think about Mr. Gold or wonder what lay beneath his icy veneer. He obviously wasn't as cold as he wanted people to believe; he had even laughed and joked with her a few times.

After she had finished washing the dishes, she began boiling the water for tea. Soon after she put the water on, Mr. Gold stuck his head into the kitchen. "I like to spend my evenings in the library, Miss French. Please bring my tea there."

Belle cleared off the dining room table, smiling in glee as she realized how much of the meal he had eaten; he seemed to have enjoyed it. She quickly cleaned up the dishes and made his tea, then took it into the library. It was a large room, tastefully decorated with dark cherry wood bookcases and two large armchairs, one of which Mr. Gold was sitting in reading a book. Belle set the tray on the table between the two chairs. He set the book down on his lap. "Thank you, Miss French," he said picking up the teacup, "but this is the wrong cup."

"Excuse me?"

"I like the little one with the chip."

"Aren't you worried you'll cut yourself?"

"I have already. Twice, actually."

Belle shook her head in disbelief. "You silly man. I'll get it for you." She ignored his shocked look (evidence that very few people had ever called him 'silly' to his face, no matter how much he deserved it) and left the room. She returned a moment later with his teacup, which she filled up and set on the table next to him.

"Last night, I threw away half of the tea," he said as he measured sugar into his cup. Why was he telling her something so trivial? She was really beginning to think him rather eccentric, at least when it came to his tea.

"I'll make less the next time, if you'd like."

"That's not necessary. But would you care to join me for a cup? It would be a shame to let it go to waste. And we already have an extra teacup."He didn't meet her eyes, instead looking down at the chipped teacup in his hand.

"I'd like that," she said softly.

A smile formed on his face and he slowly brought his eyes up to look at her. He seemed so surprised, as if he had been expecting her to decline. She smiled back as she sat in the second armchair, then poured herself a cup and took a sip.

"As I said before, you can borrow any book you like, Miss French."

"Belle."

"What?"

"You might as well call me by my first name if I'm going to be working for you for an extended amount of time."

"Belle." The sound of her name on his lips caused a chill to run up her spine. "I suppose you may call me Adrian."

"Okay. Adrian." She wondered if she was the first person in town that he had asked to call him by his first name. It wouldn't really surprise her; as far as she knew, he didn't have any friends.

Belle set her teacup down and stood. The fiction section was calling to her. She ran her hand over the spines of the books, enjoying the feel of the leather bindings beneath her fingers. After much internal debate, she finally decided on a fantasy novel. When she turned around, she realized that Gold's eyes had not left her, despite the book he had opened in his lap.

"Did you find one?" he finally asked.

"I found several, but I think I'll try this one today. Thank you so much for allowing me to borrow it."

"It's my pleasure, Miss French. Belle." She sat back down, finishing the rest of her tea. Neither of them spoke, but the silence was comfortable rather than awkward.

Belle picked up her teacup and stood. "I should probably get going. I'll see you Monday."

"Goodnight."

She left the room, and quickly washed her cup in the kitchen sink. Then she left the house, completely oblivious to the fact that Mr. Gold had been barely able to breathe until he heard the front door of the house close behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Thank you so much for all of the kind reviews! I enjoy reading them so much!

To my unsigned reviewer Hermitess: I laughed at your review because while I was writing the scenes in the shop, I was also worried that Belle might be too good as a salesperson and Gold would have no idea that something she sold was important until it was too late! I'd like to think that the curse doesn't allow necessary things to be discarded or to leave the town, but who knows-Emma and August might need to go on a quest out of town to recover an important object. =P

I hope that you all enjoy this chapter!

**To Which Fate Binds: Chapter 5**

Throughout the next week, Belle slowly fell into a routine while working for Mr. Gold. After finishing up at the school library, she would get lunch for both of them before she arrived at Mr. Gold's store, clean, then spend a few hours either in the basement or working up in the store if Gold was out. She had begun inventorying the books and started moving some of the more valuable ones up into the store. He was true to his word about letting her donate any children's books to the school library, which proved (to her at least) that he wasn't nearly as heartless as he let the townspeople believe. In the late afternoons and evenings, she would clean and cook at Mr. Gold's house, serving him dinner and tea. He didn't invite her to drink tea in the library with him again, but she couldn't really blame him, especially if he was engrossed in a book and would prefer reading to chatting.

Things changed on Friday night, however. "Good evening, Belle," he said when he arrived home. She turned from the salad she was making.

"Mr. Gold," she said. "How was the rest of your day?"

"Fine, thank you. I don't suppose…" He hesitated for a moment. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in joining me for dinner tonight? And any other night you're here, actually. As long as you don't have any other plans, of course. I would hate for you to go home hungry." He didn't meet her eyes as he spoke to her.

"I don't have any other plans. I'd be happy to join you." His eyes finally drifted up to her face and she gave him a small smile. Every night since she had begun working for him, she had not gotten a chance to eat; although it was already a week into their deal, it was good of him to think of her.

The first few minutes of their meal were spent in an awkward silence. She kept looking up and glancing at him across the table, when he would quickly look away. This happened several times until she spoke.

"I finished the book you lent me," she said. "To be honest, I never would have expected you to be interested in science fiction."

He smiled, seemingly relieved for the conversation. "I am full of surprises."

"You most certainly are." And he was—everyday she learned something new and different about him. However, she still felt like there was so much more for her to find out, so many layers left to uncover. Belle had never met anyone like him, never wanted to get to know someone as badly as she wanted to know him. He had put up walls between himself and the rest of the world and she was determined to find out why and to know what had caused him to turn into the man he was.

As soon as dinner was over, they drank tea in the library and continued talking. They spent the rest of the evening discussing books—the one she had borrowed from him and other ones that they had both read. Belle had a long list of books that she was planning to loan him. It wasn't until Belle looked at her watch at nine o'clock that she realized how much she had enjoyed her evening with him. The time with him had certainly flown by.

Over the next few weeks, dinner with him became a new part of her routine. Though part of her thought it strange to have two meals a day with the owner of the shop her father had burgled and vandalized, she said nothing. She grew to enjoy his company more than she had expected. In fact, she could have gone so far as to say that she liked talking with him more than any other person in the town.

And she could tell that he felt the same way. Belle would have never expected him to be congenial, but Mr. Gold seemed to laugh and smile all the time when they shared their meals.

Belle could remember hearing about Mr. Gold in the past and was amazed at how different the rumors were from her actual experience. She couldn't imagine him being the heartless and ruthless person that others had told her about. While he certainly took a long time to warm up to people (herself included), once she began to know him, she found him rather pleasant. Perhaps he was just misunderstood.

Regardless of why there was such a discrepancy between his reputation and his actual behavior, she craved his companionship, never wanting to leave at the end of the evening. For every new piece of information she found out about him, she only wanted to know more.

They were slowly becoming friends, and she couldn't help but wonder if their friendship might develop into something more.

* * *

Adrian Gold had very mixed feelings about getting closer to Belle French. It had taken an entire week for him to strike up the nerve to ask her to dine with him, but from that evening their relationship had shifted. His attraction for her was only growing and all thoughts of ridding himself of his attraction to her had been discarded in futility. He found that he no longer really cared that his feelings were unrequited for he could scarcely remember a happier time in his life. During the moments when she wasn't around, he had taken to counting down the hours until the next time he would next see her.

Their dinners together were by far the best parts of his days. Never had he met anyone who was as easy to talk to or with whom he enjoyed conversing with so much. They frequently spoke about reading and she began loaning him books that she thought he would enjoy. And enjoy them he did; she seemed to understand his mind and his interests better than anybody he had ever met.

One Saturday afternoon, Gold was in the back of the shop going through the finances for the previous month when he realized something: the revenue of the store had increased significantly. He found himself smiling as he thought about the reason—the young woman in the next room. Just when he was about to go tell her about it, the bell above the door jingled.

Gold didn't bother getting up from his chair in the back room; he knew that Belle would take care of the visitor. Customers certainly preferred her help, as was evidenced by the substantial increase in the store's profit. He didn't really mind that she was obviously more liked than him; he had long ago accepted people's aversion to him.

"Hi Belle," Gold heard a voice say. He stood up when he realized that it was her ex-boyfriend. He took a few steps to the curtain, deciding to intervene only if it appeared that the idiot was badgering her.

"Justin, what a surprise," she said nonchalantly. Gold smiled. Her voice certainly made it clear how unenthusiastic she was to see him. Of course, the simpleton had difficulty picking up on nuances that the average human being would have noticed right away, so he had no idea that the girl had no interest in him.

"I'm here to check on you again," he said. "How's he been treating you?"

"Very well, Justin. As I told you before, checking up on me is completely unnecessary. Mr. Gold and I have become friends."

"Are you serious, Belle? How could you be friends with an ugly old cripple? Everybody in town hates that horrible son of a bitch." Gold tried not to let the oaf's words get to him; he had been called far worse by far better people. But, the fact that the boy was saying such things to his assistant was completely unacceptable. Gold was ready to open the curtain to tell the boy off. However, he stopped when his assistant spoke, her anger obvious.

"Don't you _ever_ speak of him in such a way again. Now leave, Justin. You're no longer welcome here."

"Belle, I—"

"Justin," she said with a note of warning in her voice, like a parent scolding a child. "I'm not going to ask again."

Her words seemed to have worked as he heard the bell above the door ring a few seconds later.

Gold's heart swelled. Nobody except his son had ever defended him—even his ex-wife had laughed when others ridiculed him. Gold found himself wondering what would have happened if only there wasn't an age gap between them and he had met Belle French twenty years earlier, when he was younger, more attractive, and not handicapped. He knew that he would have never gotten a divorce from someone like her, no matter what tragedies or obstacles life threw at them.

He quickly pushed the thoughts from his mind—it was pointless to think about what could have been—and walked out to the store. "It appears that speaking to the boy as though he's five years old is the most effective way of getting rid of him," he said.

"You heard everything?" Her face was flushed.

"I did. I thought you might need my assistance. However, it seems that you are quite capable of getting rid of undesirables on your own."

"I am so sorry that he said those things. His behavior is completely inexcusable."

"He may be a fool, but he did speak the truth. I am completely aware that I'm not attractive, nor am I kind."

"But you're also not unattractive. Nor are you unkind," she replied. He was speechless for a moment, not knowing what to make of her words.

He decided not to think about them**,** instead saying. "You told him we're friends."

"Aren't we?" she said. Her eyes were wide, almost innocent and he realized that he would be willing to agree to anything if she had that expression on her face.

The idea of friendship was completely foreign to him. He couldn't think of the last time anybody had considered him a friend. Perhaps when he was a child, but not anytime in his adult life. He had always preferred to spend time by himself, rarely finding anyone whose company was worth seeking out. Until now. Gold thought about the moments they spent together, the dinners, the talks in the library, and the times they worked together in the store.

"I suppose we are," he said thoughtfully. She smiled at him and he decided to change the subject before it went into the uncomfortable territory of what a friendship entailed (sharing secrets and talking about feelings had never been his forte).

"I was just working on the books and was pleased to find that the store's profit has more than doubled in the past month."

"Oh?" she said with a smile. "I suppose the cleanliness pushed people to buy."

"Not to mention my new employee. You're quite good with customers."

"Thank you."

Had he been a braver man, he would have also told her that she had given him so much more, that his miserable life had become bearable the moment she entered it, and that he actually looked forward to getting up in the morning. He would have told her that he cared for her, and that she was the only light in the darkness that had been with him for so many years.

However, he had never been brave. He was a coward, and he knew that he would never tell her what he felt. Right now he would just have to be happy for their friendship, which was already more than he could possibly hope for from someone like her.

* * *

The second level of Mr. Gold's house went mostly unused except as storage space for all of the trinkets that he had collected over the years. After a few weeks of working for him, Belle began tackling the four upstairs rooms. Although she had thought his shop cluttered, the inventory at the shop was nothing compared to the sheer volume of objects in those rooms. Gold had given her permission to sort through and organize everything. She wondered what he could possibly need with so many antiques—he could probably open an additional store with only the items she found in the first bedroom. Belle worked several hours a day for the next few weeks sorting through, boxing, and labeling the objects in just that first room. The second room contained more of the same—mainly antiques, but with a few more recent items thrown in.

Belle had been hoping that the upstairs rooms offered some hints about Mr. Gold and all of the mysteries that lay underneath his surface. She had been working for him for weeks and he had not volunteered anything about himself. Even after he had admitted that they were friends, he still told her nothing. On the few occasions she had tried to get him to open up, he had not been forthcoming at all.

It wasn't until she reached the third room that she found anything that gave her a clue to Mr. Gold's past. Buried in the back of a closet was a carelessly placed stack of tapestries that seemed very rare and expensive. Belle wondered for a moment why they were so haphazardly placed when found the box under them. The tapestries were quickly forgotten about when she opened a box of children's clothing—boys' clothing. Belle was unable to contain her excitement.

It seemed that Mr. Gold had a son. Belle was curious to find out more. Where did his son live? With his mother? Had Mr. Gold been married? She pictured his wife as kind, smart, and beautiful, as someone who would make him smile at the end of a long day at work, who would be a good mother to her son, who he would love unconditionally. An ache formed in her chest at the thought.

Silly, she thought. She most certainly was not jealous of her employer's wife who she knew nothing about.

That night at dinner, Belle decided to bring it up. "I was organizing the bedroom with the large windows and I found some children's clothing. Do you have a son?"

Mr. Gold was silent for a few moments, the he took a deep breath. "I did, once. But I lost him."

Belle was horrified. Did he mean that his son was dead? She had just assumed that his son lived in another city or another part of the country. A lump formed in her throat. "I-I'm so sorry," she said.

"Thank you," he said in what was almost a whisper. Belle could see the pain in his eyes, and felt terrible for bringing up something that brought sadness to him. How could she have been so inconsiderate?

Belle didn't ask any more questions, no matter how curious she was to know what had happened to his child. If Mr. Gold wanted to tell her about it, she would welcome it, but she didn't think that he would volunteer any information.

His eyes were downcast throughout the entire rest of the dinner and Belle couldn't help but watch him. She couldn't imagine the grief that he had endured at the loss of his child and was beginning to understand why he closed himself off from so many people. Neither of them spoke as they finished their meals, and Belle noticed that he ate less than normal. She wanted to apologize profusely for bringing horrible memories to the surface, but wasn't sure if that would help or just make things worse.

Belle cleaned the dishes and put the tea kettle on the stove. Although she sometimes stayed for tea, she only took out his teacup, not wanting to impose if he wanted to be alone.

When she brought the tray into the library, he wasn't in his usual seat—he stood at the window and was staring at the moon, full and bright in the sky. Belle set the tray on the table, as quietly as possible. She didn't want to bother him.

As she turned to leave, he spoke in a low voice, his accent thicker than normal. "His name was Bailey." Belle turned back, shocked that he was reaching out to her, that he was actually opening up. She slowly walked towards him until she was right next to him at the window. "I always called him Bae. We found out he had leukemia shortly after his fourteenth birthday. He died a few months later." Unshed tears glistened in his eyes and she realized how difficult it must have been for him to tell her.

Belle put her arms around him in a tentative hug, even though she knew that he would most likely stiffen or even push her away.

She didn't expect to be pulled closer.

His arms tightened around her, one of his palms splayed against her back, the other in her hair, his face resting in the crook of her neck. Belle closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of him. She couldn't remember anything that felt so right, so perfect, as the feeling of holding him.

They stood like that for several minutes, and when he released her, a longing formed in the pit of her stomach. She would have been content to remain in his arms that for the rest of the night.

Their eyes met for just a moment and she suddenly wondered what it would feel like to kiss him, how he would react if she pressed her lips to his. The thought was gone as quickly as it had come to her in the first place.

He turned away from her, picking up his cane from where it rested against the wall, and moved to his chair. "You should go, Belle."

It was clear he wanted to be alone, and she was certainly willing to give him space. Belle hoped she hadn't overstepped her bounds or made him angry.

"Okay. Goodnight, Mr. Gold," she said softly.

"Goodnight, Belle."

* * *

Regina looked at the picture in front of her, the sight of the Dark One and his little tart in an embrace. "You've done well, Sidney." She wasn't lying; because of this, he was currently her second favorite minion.

As soon as she had seen Belle French in the pawnshop, Regina had sent Sidney Glass after them, knowing that the man would stop at nothing if he thought that he might get a sensational news story out of it. He had all but camped out at Gold's house for the past two months, feeding information to Regina, who now knew everything about the couple. She was expecting pictures of more than a hug, but she knew that it was only a matter of time for them to progress beyond hugging unless she took action immediately.

"Thank you," Sidney Glass said. "Shall I publish them? I can already imagine the scandal this will cause."

"No. Not yet. This may be nothing more a hug between two friends, which can hardly be construed as an illicit affair. You certainly don't want Gold taking you to court for libel. Let me hold on to this for now."

After Sidney left, Regina stared at the photograph for a few moments. She absolutely despised the girl and her father. The two of them represented her only failure in this world. Belle had been meant to be used as a pawn, locked away in the basement of the hospital until she became necessary. Regina didn't know how Moe French had found out about the girl's existence (because she had been very deliberate in giving him memories of his daughter's death), but Regina was already plotting a long and excruciatingly painful death for whoever had revealed the secret.

And the Dark One was the last person in this entire world who deserved true love and happiness. The thought of the two of them together made her stomach turn. However, she had plans for them, plans to destroy their chances of happiness.

Regina took out a match from the drawer of her desk and struck it. A smile formed on her face as she watched the picture go up in flames.


	6. Chapter 6

******Author's Note: **My apologies for the slow update-hopefully the next one will be sooner since I have some time off for the holidays! This chapter gave me a lot of grief (it was written weeks ago, but when I began to edit it, I decided to change pretty much the entire thing, so it took a lot longer than expected!). Thank you to all of you who reviewed; I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**To**** Which Fate Binds: Chapter 6**

From the moment he had told her about the death of his son, Adrian Gold had scarcely been out of her head. As she cooked dinner the next night, she had been letting her mind amazed her that he had chosen her, of all people, to confide him. He seemed so cold, yet he had opened his heart and let her in just a little bit.

Belle had been lost in thought as she chopped vegetables and hadn't heard Mr. Gold come in.

"Belle," he said, interrupting her thoughts.

She jumped in surprise, and the knife slipped and cut her finger. She gave a small cry as a few drops of blood settled over the cut. Despite his bad leg, Gold got to her quickly, taking her hand in his.

A feeling of warmth washed over her, skin tingling where his hand touched hers.

"It's not very deep. Wash it out with soap and water," he told her. "I'll be back in just a moment."

She could still feel his presence even after he left the room.

Belle washed the blood off and pressure on the cut with a paper towel. He returned a minute later with a bandage. "How is it?"

"Fine, it barely broke the skin."

"Let me see," he said. Even though the minor cut didn't really need tending to, she didn't protest as she took off the paper towel and he took her hand in his. Belle tried to ignore the sensations that coursed through her as he wrapped a bandage around her finger.

Until she looked at his face. She had wondered if he had felt that peculiar heat as they touched and thought, based on the flush on his cheeks, that perhaps he had.

They were close, only inches away. While he often looked away from her or refused to meet her eyes if they were in close proximity, now he kept his gaze on her. Her heart jumped when she saw the yearning apparent on his face.

It would be so easy to press her lips to his, and she was fairly sure, based on the desire in his eyes, that a kiss might not be completely unwelcome.

"Thank you, Adrian," she said almost in a whisper. His eyes widened at her use of his first name. He had told her in the beginning to drop the formality of calling him Mr. Gold, but she hadn't until now. They stood in silence for a few moments, the air crackling between them.

He was the first to look away, gently dropping her hand.

"I should get back to making dinner," she said. "It'll be ready in just a few minutes."

He left the kitchen without a word. Belle's heart was pounding. What had just happened? Had she almost kissed him? She pushed the thought to the back of her mind for later and quickly finished the salad she had been making before he came in.

She brought dinner to the table, determined to act as normal as possible. Belle took the seat across from him.

After serving herself, she immediately began chatting. "I found the most interesting book today while working in the basement. It has dozens of fairy tales and is beautifully illustrated. I could have spent hours looking at it!"

"Would you like to donate it to the school?" he asked.

"Oh, no, it's far too nice for rowdy schoolchildren. But I'd like to read it. If you don't mind, of course."

"I don't mind. You're free to borrow anything you find in the basement as long as you return it to its rightful place."

"Really? Thank you so much!" She took a bite, savoring the meal.

"I finished the book you lent to me," he said.

"You actually read it?" She often recommended books to friends and acquaintances, but so few of the actually listened to her recommendations. It always seemed that everyone was too busy to read. But the fact that he had listened to her really meant a lot. They spend the rest of the meal talking about reading, much to Belle's delight.

"I have a few other recommendations for you, since you enjoyed that one," she said as she began clearing the table. "I'll bring them to the shop tomorrow."

She finished cleaning and they took their tea in the library, neither of them mentioning the strange moment in the kitchen.

Belle left a few minutes after eight, her mind still lingering on the desire that had been present in his expression, and her own impulse to kiss him.

As she was walking home, her cell phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts.

An unknown number showed up on the screen and for a moment, her heart jumped a little at the thought that her employer might be calling her.

"Hello?"

"Belle? It's Graham."

Dread overtook her. Why was the sheriff calling her? Had something happened to her father? "Graham, what's wrong? Is everything okay?"

"Oh, everything's fine. I'm actually calling because I was wondering if you'd be interested in going out to dinner with me on Saturday."

Was he asking her on a date? It had been years since she had been on a date, back when she was going out with Justin.

"Um, I'm not sure, Graham. I have to work for Mr. Gold every Saturday until eight."

"We can go out after that. Listen, why don't you think about it for a day or two and give me a call if you think you can make it?"

"Okay," Belle said. "I'll talk to you later."

"Goodnight, Belle."

"Goodnight."

Strange thoughts began overtaking her mind after she hung up the phone. Graham was handsome, smart, and kind. It had really been nice to give her an out while they spoke on the phone, allowing her to choose if she wanted to go to dinner with him without putting her on the spot. He was the town sheriff, and had been kind to her and her father, even when he was locked up in jail. Graham was everything she should have wanted in a man. So why wasn't she jumping at the chance to go out with him?

In the back of her mind, she knew why. Her reaction at his touch, his heartbreak at his son's death, and the feeling of his arms around her had all sparked foreign emotions in her.

She was completely smitten with Adrian Gold.

And—if she was reading the signs properly—there was a good chance her feelings were not one-sided.

Fear and excitement rose up in her chest at the thought of a relationship with him. Would he even want a relationship? Or would he dismiss her feelings and reject her? Should she even pursue such a thing?

Belle had never been good with dating-Justin had pursued her relentlessly until she had finally given in (and even that was as a favor to her father). She would have to watch Gold carefully, see if he actually did have feelings for her.

* * *

The bell for the store door rang several minutes after he had turned the sign to open. While he didn't want customers or desperate souls in search of a loan early in the morning, he would have preferred either or both to the person who walked in—the biggest thorn in his side in the town—Regina Mills.

"Ms. Mills. Good morning," he said. He wondered if she was here to accuse him of breaking laws that only existed in her twisted little mind. Or perhaps she wanted to use town funds to buy another parcel of land for her own personal gain. "What can I do for you today?"

"Mr. Gold, I'm here as a friend." A smirk formed on her face and he suddenly felt a massive headache coming on. He definitely needed more coffee before dealing with this woman.

"Ms. Mills, we both know that you don't have friends. So, I would prefer you not try to sugarcoat whatever it is you want from me and just tell me straight out."

She laughed. "I suppose you're right. I don't have friends. And neither do you." She paused, for maximum dramatic effect. "Oh wait, you _do_ have a friend. In fact, if the rumors are anything to go by, she's much more than that."

Gold nearly bit his tongue trying to avoid asking the next question—she was obviously baiting him—but couldn't help himself. "What rumors?" he barked.

"Oh, so you haven't heard. Why, it's all over town! It seems that everyone thinks that your little assistant is offering more than just her cleaning services. If you know what I mean." She gave him a sly smile and it took all of his will not to bring his cane over her head.

"I'm sure you had no part in spreading those rumors," he said, his tone suggesting otherwise.

"Of course not! You know I would never try to destroy the reputation of Storybrooke's most upstanding citizen. However, I'm worried about you."

"I highly doubt that," he said dryly.

"Her father absolutely despises you. And you know that she loves him too much to go against his wishes. Why else would she date that idiot Thompson boy?"

"Ms. Mills, do you have a point in coming here?"

"She'll never want you," she hissed, "especially when she knows who you truly are. So stop trying to convince yourself that she will. She only sees you as a pathetic old man with no friends."

Regina Mills might be the town bitch, but she was vocalizing the exact things he had been thinking to himself. Still, he refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing that her words meant anything.

"Madam Mayor, I'm not certain what you hoped to accomplish by coming here today, but I can tell you that it didn't work. My relationship with my employee—or lack thereof—is no business of yours."

"Oh, but it is. As the mayor, everything in this town is my business."

Gold resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I realize that you have delusions of grandeur and you think that being the mayor of a tiny town—a position for which you ran unopposed, by the way—means that you have the right to interfere in the lives of others. Both of us know who truly owns this town, dearie, and it isn't you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have important business to attend to." He gave her a pointed glare, which she returned for a moment before backing down.

"I'll be off then. Don't say I didn't warn you," she said as she left the shop. He knew it was too much to hope she wouldn't return anytime soon, but it was a minor victory to rid himself of her after only a few minutes.

He knew that Belle French would never be interested in a man like him so there was no reason for Regina Mills to waste her time telling him so.

Gold sighed, thinking about the evening he had told her about Bae. As much as he didn't want to lend credence to the mayor's words, he knew that he had gone too far. Adrian Gold had never been one to open up to others or to reach out to people for help or comfort. Even in the weeks after his son died, he had kept his grief to himself, not wanting others, even his wife, to see how weak he had become.

But allowing Belle French—his employee, of all people—to see him at his most vulnerable had been too much. And for a few brief, blissful moments, he had held her in his arms, which he would have happily done for the entire night if only she would have let him.

However, he knew that she wouldn't have. She was everything he was not—young, beautiful, and caring. She was so kind that she would comfort an old man who still grieved over his dead child, even though the man was the most detested person in town.

When he had met his ex-wife, Michelle, he had thought that such a woman had been far too good for him. It hadn't been much of a surprise when she had left him after the death of Bae, who was really the only thread keeping their marriage together. However, while Michelle had been pretty, she was nothing compared to Belle, who was not only beautiful but also considerate and compassionate. If he had thought his first wife was out of his league, what did that make Belle?

He thought of the previous night, the look in her eyes when he had touched her upon attending to her wound. He knew that he was only imagining something that he so wished was there. She didn't love him, or even like him; in fact, he was certain that she, like everyone else in this town, barely tolerated his presence. She was only nice to him because her father's freedom depended on it.

Gold tried to distance himself from Belle French throughout that day, finding other business to attend to that took him away from her. Being in the same room with her while knowing she would never return his feelings was torture.

Dinner came and he wondered if it would be better for him to ask her to stop staying for dinner. She would probably prefer it—no doubt she saw eating with him to be a necessary evil of her job. However, he—being a coward—said nothing and ended up eating with her.

"Would you like some wine?" he asked, the same thing that he had asked many nights over the past few months. She had always declined.

"Yes, I'd like some," she said. He was curious as to why she suddenly agreed, but thought nothing of it.

They spoke amiably throughout dinner and Gold found that he could almost pretend that they were married, a typical couple sitting down to an evening meal.

The thought was almost laughable.

"I don't think you hired me just to help you clean. I think you were lonely. I mean, anyone would be," she said after they had both finished eating, obviously feeling bolder after the two glasses of wine she had drunk.

As soon as she said it, the feeling of déjà vu that washed over him was so strong that he wondered if she had made the same cheeky assertion to him in one of his dreams (in which she was a frequent visitor).

It was also at that moment that he realized how she must see him—as a pitiable and friendless old fool. Did she feel sorry for him? Was that why she was so kind to him?

The thought made his stomach turn. He didn't respond either in the affirmative or negative, even though the words she said were completely true. He _had_ been lonely and part of the reason he had been looking for an assistant was because there were so many hours of every day spent in solitude. When he first thought about getting someone to work for him, he had expected to have someone who occasionally broke the silence to ask questions about business matters, and do all of the jobs he disliked as an added bonus. He had never expected _her_, a woman who had become the one light in his dark and lonely life.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Gold. That was a completely inappropriate comment to make." Her face grew red and he didn't respond.

She stood up. "I should clean up; it's after eight already." He just nodded as she quickly left the room.

After that evening, he knew that it had to stop. He was allowing his walls to come down for this one girl, who _pitied_ him, who could never possibly return his feelings. If he continued down the same path, she would be in a position where she could easily tear him apart without leaving a scrap of pride behind.

She could so easily ruin him, hurt him so badly that he would never recover.

Gold would never let that happen.

Adrian Gold was good at many things. He knew more about the law than anybody else he had ever met and was able to effortlessly work through its many loopholes to make deals that always swung in his favor. He had always been smart with money and had made many wise investments throughout his life. And he had a knack for looking at old objects and determining whether they were valuable antiques or if they could only be classified as junk.

However, he had one talent that he excelled at far better than all of those: keeping people away. He could easily make her hate him. As much as he didn't want to push Belle French away, it was better to do so before things got out of control. His cowardly heart couldn't take the rejection that he knew was inevitable.

* * *

The next afternoon, Saturday, found him working on yet another contract for a loan. It seemed the citizens of Storybrooke were getting more and more desperate; the number of loans last month had been double that of the same month the year before. Thankfully, all of them were able to make payments on time. In fact, for the past month, there had only been one problem in the town with loan and rent payments.

That particular problem walked into his shop late that afternoon. Gold was reading through the contract and Belle was working in the basement, although she had remained in his mind the entire day despite her lack of physical proximity to him.

Billy Montgomery, one of Storybrooke's mechanics, and his mother had not been bad tenants, but they had neglected to pay their rent. Again.

"Mr. Gold," he said as he walked through the door, waving a piece of paper. "My mom said you brought this over while I was at work. I don't understand."

Gold sighed. Despite what people in the town thought, he truly disliked this part of his job. "Mr. Montgomery, I'm not sure why you don't understand what's clearly written on the paper. It's an eviction notice."

"Up until the past month, we've always been on time with our rent. But since my mother broke her hip, she's been unable to work and the hospital bills are enormous. We'll get your money, but it might take a little bit longer."

Gold did not like when people tried to appeal to his sense of benevolence. He had never been a generous man and everybody knew that. There were rumors flying all over town about just how horrible he was, after all. Yet, people still came to him all the same. Sob stories never worked on him—and he had certainly heard his share. In fact, his whole childhood could have been a sob story, except for the fact that he had managed to get where he was today. He had grown up poor and his family had been evicted several times. However, rather than complaining about it, he had worked extra, helping his family through the tough times. In the end, it had paid off and he had become the successful and wealthy man he was today.

"As stated on the notice, you have exactly seven days to get the money. Otherwise, you'll be forced to vacate," Gold said, probably more sternly than the boy deserved.

"I understand that, Mr. Gold. All I'm asking for is some compassion and a little extra time." Gold almost laughed at the boy. Compassion. That was a quality that he sorely lacked.

"Mr. Montgomery, your leasing agreement is very clear. If you don't pay, you'll be evicted."

Montgomery turned around and left the shop. Gold was grateful that the boy didn't decide to argue—or worse, cry—to try to get him to change his mind.

When he walked into the back room, Belle was there. She had apparently heard the entire conversation. He briefly felt remorse for his treatment of the boy, but knew that this was exactly what he needed to push her away. Oh yes, he could easily make her dislike him.

* * *

Belle had tried not to listen—truly she had. However, her overwhelming curiosity once again got the better of her.

Billy had always been kind to her and her friends. She didn't know him very well, but she knew (through Ruby, who had a crush on him) that he was a good man who loved his mother and had taken care of her after her accident.

Belle understood Billy's situation all too well. While she had always been able pay her own rent and set a little bit aside every month, things had gotten considerably more difficult when her dad started having health issues. On top of that, he had made several business decisions that had backfired and had been unable to pay the rent. Belle had tried to cover what she could from her savings, but in the end it hadn't been enough. So she definitely felt sensitive towards Billy.

Unfortunately, Mr. Gold didn't seem to feel the same way. While she had known of his reputation, Belle had seen so much good in him since she started working with him. However, hearing him speak in such a way to one of her acquaintances caused an ache to form in her chest.

Perhaps some of the rumors were true. Perhaps his bad reputation was not completely undeserved.

The disappointment in her heart was immense.

She was still standing in the back room after Billy left, and hadn't moved when Gold walked through the curtain.

"Belle," he said in surprise. His expression softened, but she quickly looked away.

"So you're going to throw Billy out of his home?" she said, the cracking of her voice betraying her feelings of disappointment.

He was silent for a few moments before responding. When he did, his voice was cold. "Ms. French, you're an intelligent young woman. You know as well as I do how a rental agreement works."

"But I would have expected _you_ to be compassionate."

"That's rather naïve of you, dearie. I apologize for disappointing you," he said flippantly. Her heart sank. He was talking to her like she was a child. And he thought her _naïve_, just because she had faith in him. Most of all, she disliked the condescension in his voice when he called her 'dearie'. She had heard him refer to Regina Mills in that way and she knew it was definitely not a term of endearment. Belle hoped he never addressed her in that way again.

"However, you are completely aware of my reputation in this town; in fact, you even have experience with it through my dealings with your father. I can't afford to make exceptions. If I allow one person to go behind on his rent, the entire town will try to walk all over me."

"You _can_ afford to make exceptions, Mr. Gold. You certainly have enough money," she snapped back at him. Belle was feeling too brave for her own good. She quickly tried to reel in her anger before she said something she might regret. Belle took a deep breath and allowed her voice softened. "I know that you're not the cold-hearted villain everybody thinks you are. I'm sure that showing kindness to one man won't hurt you."

"This is my personal business." His voice dripped with venom. "You are my employee and you will not stick your nose where it does not belong."

His words stung. She knew it was his business, but she had thought of herself as more than just an employee. She had considered herself his friend but now she wasn't sure if he even considered her that.

"I apologize for thinking well of you, Mr. Gold. I won't make the same mistake again," she said in a voice that contained malice she hadn't known she possessed. She was hurt and defensive, and she knew that if she spent any more time at the shop, she would only get more and more angry.

"I have a lot of cleaning to do at your house and I will see you later. I have a date tonight so I will not be dining with you." She spoke the words without thinking, but now Belle knew that in order for her statement to not be a lie, she would have to call Graham back and take him up on his offer of dinner. If he was even willing to go out with her at such late notice. Belle had not been planning on accepting because of her feelings for Mr. Gold, but she was beginning to realize that rejecting a perfectly nice guy for one who obviously had no interest in her was ridiculous. She could at least give Graham a chance since things with Gold were obviously going nowhere.

She gave Mr. Gold one last look before leaving the store. Belle expected him to be glaring at her with disdain, which had been so present in their interaction with each other. But when he watched her walk away, the only emotions she could make out on his face were pain and sadness.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Thank you for all of the kind reviews-they really mean a lot!

**To Which Fate Binds: Chapter 7**

Gold sat down to dinner that evening with a heavy heart. She had a _date_. With a man. Who was not him.

He found himself staring at the empty chair across from him. It would remain empty for the rest of the evening, and probably every evening for the rest of his life. He would forever be seated at a table set for one.

He could hear her working in the kitchen. He supposed he should expect Belle to date; she was young and beautiful, and he was surprised that men weren't beating down her door to go out with her. Had she been planning the date for a few days now? If so, his efforts at getting her to dislike had been completely unnecessary.

Now he would not only feel lonely and rejected, but he would also be hated by the one person who he actually cared about.

Belle came into the room and set down a food tray. She didn't say a word as she set a glass of water in front of him, as she served dinner to tried to meet her eyes, but she wouldn't look at him. He didn't know if she was angry or hurt, or if it was a combination of both. He felt like the most despicable man in town for being the cause of either. She completely didn't deserve it.

He knew what he needed to do. He had to apologize.

He couldn't remember ever apologizing to anybody—admitting that he was wrong was something he just didn't do. But when he saw the look of sadness on her face, his heart nearly broke. He wanted nothing more than to make her pain disappear.

Gold forced himself to work up the nerve to say something to her. Now was definitely a good time to stop being such a coward. He sat through his entire meal trying to rehearse what he could say to her. He knew that the ache in his stomach would not go away until he did it. Tonight was the best time to do it.

She began clearing the dishes, a sign that she would probably be leaving soon. As she reached out for his plate, he grabbed her wrist, the contact causing her to gasp in surprise. He kept his grip loose in case she wanted to pull away.

But she didn't pull away.

The heat between them began rising. He stood, bringing himself to his full height, which gave him a little more courage. He didn't let go of her arm. "Belle," he began. Their eyes met and all he saw were hurt and sadness. He had put both emotions there. "I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have spoken to you in such a way."

"No, you shouldn't have," she agreed, her voice soft and small. "But you were right. I _am_ a naïve girl. It was wrong of me to try to interfere. It's none of my business how you treat your tenants. I know that it doesn't matter what I think of your business dealings."

"Yes, it does," he said, forcing himself to be brave. "Your opinion is important. _You_ are the only one who matters. I don't care what anybody else in thinks. Just you."

Her face flushed at his words. She stared at him in confusion for a few moments.

She would most certainly thing him pathetic, but he had already told her more than anybody else he had ever met, so a few more things wouldn't hurt. He had gotten a surge of bravery after a lifetime of cowardice and he might as well take advantage of it while it lasted. "I never had a friend before," he said. "I think I'm rather horrible at friendship."

A small smile formed on her face. "You're not so bad. What you're doing right now is good. Admitting you're wrong is a good step to take in a friendship."

"So we're friends again?" he said, unable to hide the hope in his voice.

"Of course." Tears shone in her eyes but she smiled at him. "I'll always be your friend."

She almost choked on the words and a tear ran down her cheek. He realized that she was crying because she cared. About him. Gold could not remember anybody ever caring about him.

At that moment he vowed to do whatever possible to avoid hurting her again. He lifted his hand up—the one that was not holding her arm—and wiped the tear away with his thumb. "I'm so sorry, Belle," he whispered.

He wanted to tell her that he would never make her cry again, that he would never hurt her again, but he knew that he couldn't make that promise. He could be a selfish man sometimes and he knew that he might say or do something that made her sad. No, he couldn't promise never to hurt her again, but he would certainly try.

"It's fine," she said with a laugh. "I'm really happy, actually."

He realized that his hand was still around her arm. Rather than letting go, he brought in up to his mouth and kissed the inside of her wrist.

Her skin was soft against his lips and she didn't take her eyes from his. She seemed surprised at his boldness, but her shock was nothing compared to his own. He focused on her lips for a brief moment, and realized that he wanted to do so much more than just a quick kiss on the wrist.

Gold quickly turned his eyes away from her, releasing her arm. He knew if he didn't stop staring at her, he might give into his impulses.

"You should go if you don't want to be late," he said, looking at the wall as he spoke. "You wouldn't want to keep Mr. Thompson waiting."

"Mr. Thom—? Oh, my date isn't with Justin. It's with Graham Humbert. The sheriff," she added as if he didn't know who Graham Humbert was.

Unfortunately Gold knew exactly who he was—he was one of those men who many of the women in town lusted after. The empty-headed Thompson boy had been safe—someone he knew that Belle would never truly be interested in. But the sheriff was another story; he wasn't just attractive, but he was actually intelligent and kind. People in the town liked him and respected him. Nobody feared him or hated him.

In fact, he was probably a perfect match for Belle.

Envy built up inside of him, and he could feel it threatening to surface. If he wasn't careful, he would say something that could destroy the friendship that he was attempting to mend. He couldn't remember ever feeling this much jealousy, not even when his wife told him that she had been cheating on him, that she was in love with another man. At that time, he had expressed his anger by yelling and throwing things. He had broken dishes and glasses, called her names, and screamed at her.

But he couldn't do that to Belle.

Gold turned back to her and gave her a small smile, despite the ache in his chest. "I'll finish cleaning up. You should get ready for your date."

She nodded, her eyes wide. "Oh," she said softly. "Okay. Thank you."

"Good night, Belle."

"Good night, Adrian."

He wanted to run after her, to beg her not to go on her date, because _he_ was the only man for her. However, he didn't do such a thing. Graham Humbert was a good man, almost good enough for someone like Belle French. Adrian Gold wasn't even close to deserving her. He had been selfish and mean enough already that day, the only way he could think of to make up for it was to allow her to have fun and enjoy her date.

* * *

Belle was not enjoying her date.

Graham was being a perfect gentleman, opening doors for her, laughing at her jokes, telling her that she looked beautiful. He certainly was charming.

She had been trying to have fun, hoping that if she pretended that she was having a good time, it would actually happen.

It didn't.

Her mind was definitely not on the man she was sitting across the table from. Her mind was on another man and the feel of his lips on her wrist. For a moment, she had expected Gold to kiss her again—a real kiss. But he had turned away too soon, talking about the date that she had all but forgotten about.

She had _wanted_ him to kiss her again. And again.

"Belle?" Graham interrupted her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Graham. What were you saying?" She was an absolutely dreadful date. She couldn't imagine he would ever ask her out again after tonight.

"I was wondering about the school library. How is your job going?"

Belle began talking about a new shipment of books they had just gotten in. Graham was rather sweet to ask about it. Justin had never bothered to talk to her about her job or any of her interests.

"Have you read any good books lately?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," she gushed, finally getting interested in the conversation. "Mr. Gold has the most amazing library in his house. He's given me free reign of it and I've been borrowing a few books a week."

"What's it like working for him? Everybody dislikes him so much. But it seems like he's nice to you."

Belle realized after a second that she was looking at her wrist again, staring at the place he had kissed her. "He's not so bad when you get to know him. In fact, we've become good friends. He's really a very kind person if you look deeper."

"How does your father feel about this friendship? He did steal from Gold, after all."

Belle was silent for a few moments. Her father had no idea of their friendship—she had only told him that Mr. Gold had been treating her professionally but kindly. "I'm sorry for prying," Graham said. "We can change the subject."

She was grateful for the subject change and they spent a few minutes discussing the weather and town gossip. Then, much to her relief, he said, "I'll walk you home."

Thankfully, the walk was short and the conversation wasn't too awkward. "I had fun with you," he said when they reached her door. She tried to smile. Belle knew that she had been a horrible date—her mind had been mostly on another man the entire time.

"Me too," she lied.

"Let's do this again sometime," he said. Then he leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

The kiss was nothing like the one she had gotten earlier that night, and Belle—not for the first time that evening—wondered what it would have been like to get a kiss from Adrian Gold at the end of a date. The one from Graham didn't really do anything for her—not that she disliked him, but she didn't really feel any sort of attraction to him.

She knew that she should like him, that she should be attracted to him both on a physical and an emotional level. Graham seemed like the perfect guy, but she had really not felt anything like the connection that she had with Gold.

Belle sighed as she went into the apartment. Mary Margaret was sitting on the sofa. She jumped up in excitement when Belle walked through the door. "Ruby sent me a text message and told me you were at Granny's on a date with Graham Humbert. I want to hear all about it!" she said enthusiastically.

Belle tried to smile. "He's a really nice guy. It was kind of him to treat me to dinner."

Mary Margaret's smile faded. "You don't seem too excited about it. Was everything okay?"

Mary Margaret was always rather sensitive to the feelings of others, which was a good quality to have when one of her friends was in need to cheering up. Unfortunately, she was also hard to hide anything from; she could no doubt see all of the emotions written on Belle's face.

"Yes, it was. He was very kind to me. I guess I was just kind of distracted."

"Why? What's wrong, Belle?"

"Nothing," Belle said, an obvious lie. "I'm going to go for a walk."

Mary Margaret looked worried. "Do you want company?"

"No, thanks, Mary Margaret. I just want to be alone right now."

"You know where to find me if you need to talk."

Belle smiled then gave her friend a quick hug. "You're such a great friend. I'll be back later."

Belle ended up walking without a destination. Storybrooke was not a big town, so there were very few places to go. However, she should not have been surprised when she ended up standing in front of Mr. Gold's house.

The light for the library was on and Belle found herself briefly wondering what time he usually went to bed.

She knew that she should walk back to her apartment, but for some reason, she walked up to the porch.

Taking a deep breath, Belle knocked on the door.

* * *

Gold spent the entire evening NOT thinking of Belle French. He did not stare at the clock every three minutes wondering what stage of the date they were on. He did not imagine Belle and the sheriff having interesting and intelligent conversation. He did not picture Belle holding his hand across the table. He did not think of the two of them kissing in the middle of the restaurant. And he most certainly did not throw a glass across the room when he thought about Graham Humbert inviting her back to his place.

At least that was what he had hoped he could say at the end of the evening.

In fact, nothing else had been on his mind from the moment she left. He had been picturing the entire date—and when he imagined it, Belle was practically swooning at the other man's feet.

Gold had drunk far too much Scotch and if he didn't stop soon, he would continue drinking until he passed out. That didn't really matter, though—all he had to look forward to the next day was an empty house with only a book for company. While the idea of reading appealed to him, he knew that he would be unable to focus on his book, because reading would only make him think of _her_.

He made a mental note to clean up the broken glass before she came to his house on Monday; otherwise she would wonder what had caused it to shatter. Then she would know how envious he was.

Despite his jealously and unhappiness at the current situation, he could almost feel a slight bit of pride in himself. If Bae was still alive, he would be proud that his father had apologized and admitted that he was wrong. Gold has always admired his son. Bae had always tried to do the right thing, had always been willing to apologize for his mistakes. He constantly tried to please others and made it his goal to make other people happy. He had been so different from both of his parents, yet Gold found himself constantly wishing he was more like his son. Especially after his death. Tears formed in his eyes at the thought of his boy. Bae had been the only person who ever mattered in his life.

Until now.

Gold took another sip of his drink. His actions earlier in the day had been a huge mistake. The thought of being hated by Belle only broke his heart. He couldn't allow it to happen. Even if she was dating another man, even if his feelings forever went unrequited, he didn't want her to ever be out of his life. They could be friends, something he didn't particularly want to settle for, but knew he could accept as long as she was happy.

The idea of her being with another man was not as unappealing as he might have thought. He could step aside and watch her fall in love with other men, if only she would still be his friend. Romance and love from her was far too much to hope for, but he would always treasure her friendship if she chose to give it to him.

Gold found himself drifting off in his chair, the alcohol causing him to feel drowsy. He began dozing until there was a knock at the door.

He fumbled for his cane and stood, cursing as his thigh rammed into the side table which caused his drink to spill. Gold knew he looked a mess, but didn't really care. The only person who ever disturbed him at his home was Regina Mills, although why she would be here at such a late hour was beyond him. Thankfully there was a chill in the air outside, which meant that the mayor would leave quickly after stating her business with him. He never bothered with social niceties for her—in all of the years they had known each other, he had not once invited her into his home, preferring to do business with her on his porch.

Gold opened the door in annoyance, ready to give Regina Mills an earful for pestering him at home such an ungodly hour.

"This had better be a town emergency," he said in his most stern voice as he opened the door. "It's almost ten o'clock and—" He stopped when he realized that it was not Regina Mills on his doorstep.

Suddenly he was completely speechless.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Wow, this update took a little longer than expected-but thank you so much for all of your kind reviews, they are much appreciated!

**To Which Fate Binds: Chapter 8**

"So how was your 'date'?" Regina asked with a huge smile on her face. While it was good for her to have control over the town sheriff and he was her favorite plaything, this was the place where he might truly be useful. Although she had momentarily felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought of him with another woman, the idea of him defiling Rumplestiltskin's true love on their first date was just too delicious!

Her lover stopped what he was doing—buttoning his shirt—and frowned. "It was good—she's very kind. I don't know why you're out to get her. I think you should just let her be."

Regina threw her hands up in exasperation. He obviously hadn't slept with her. "I don't care what you think. She might seem kind on the surface, but she has done me a great wrong and deserves to be punished."

"What has she done that's so wrong?" he asked. Regina glared at him. It wasn't like him to be so uppity. If he kept this up, perhaps she should consider replacing him.

No, that was not a good idea—at least for now. Even a death that seemed accidental would be a great inconvenience for her. However, she kept the thought at the back of her mind. She needed to start thinking about who could replace him as sheriff, just in case. But for now, Regina would have to be a little nicer to her boytoy to avoid him asking questions. Sure, he would follow all of her orders—he had no other choice, after all—but she wouldn't want him blabbing her wishes to the rest of the town.

Regina allowed her eyes to well up with tears. While magic didn't work in this world, she had found out how to use her femininity to get what she wanted. Graham was a sucker for a crying woman and would do anything to get her tears to stop.

"It's something so hurtful and embarrassing that I don't even want to discuss it," she said with a sob. A look of horror crossed his face. She smiled inwardly. Graham—like many other men—had no idea how to deal with an sobbing woman and he was completely oblivious to the tricks women could play. Regina had mastered the art of playing weak and emotional to get what she wanted. "You trust me, don't you?" she asked him.

"O-of course," he said. "I love you and I'll do anything to make you happy."

Regina wanted to vomit. She hated when Graham talked about love and romance. She was perfectly happy with a completely physical relationship. Graham had tried many times over the last twenty-eight years to get her to commit to a relationship and she had always refused. She had no illusions about his so-called love for her and was happy that he didn't truly love her. He didn't have any feelings for her, but the nature of the curse and her control over him caused him to think that he did. She loved one person in this world and it was certainly not him.

"I'm so glad for that, darling," she said. "Now, tell me more about your date. And I want to hear details."

She listened as he recounted what had to have been one of the dullest dates in the history of this world and any other world. Regina began tuning him out as he talked about things that she didn't care about like Belle's job and the books she had read. Belle's opinions on working for Gold were slightly more relevant (and also more worrisome—Belle considered them "friends").

"Did you at least kiss her at the end of the date? Or invite her back to your place for coffee?" Regina asked impatiently when Graham brought up yet another book that Belle had read.

"I kissed her," he said, seeming embarrassed. "But, don't worry—it didn't mean anything. You know that my heart belongs to you."

Regina smirked at the thought of his heart sitting in the vault below her father's tomb. "Whether you feel anything or not, I want you to keep pursuing her."

He frowned in confusion. "Regina, I don't know why you're so set on me seducing her. Besides, I don't think that she felt much of a connection between us either. "

Regina frowned. She had thought Graham would be an excellent choice. Obviously the Thompson boy had been a poor choice for he had been rejected both in this world and the previous one, but her Huntsman was desired by so many women in this town, and not just for his looks. He had seemed like such a good match for her.

If Graham couldn't seduce her, what else could Regina do? Her goal was for Rumplestiltskin's heart to be well and truly broken. It had already happened in their world—when she told him that Belle was dead—and she wanted him to experience the same thing in this world. If she couldn't have true love, Rumplestiltskin certainly didn't deserve such a thing. It was only right that he be as miserable as her and the rest of the people in the town.

And if Rumplestiltskin and his true love were back together—what would that mean for the curse? Would that wretched Snow White be reunited with her lover? No, that would never happen; Regina would make sure of that, even if she had to pull the plug on that insipid prince.

After Graham said his goodbyes and snuck out the back, Regina picked up her cellphone, realizing that she had a message. After she read her missing message, she threw her phone across the room in anger. Obviously Graham's date with Belle had been a complete waste of time.

She had to think of a new plan.

* * *

The moment Adrian Gold opened the door, Belle regretted showing up. What was she doing here? Arriving at her boss's house unannounced at ten o'clock was highly inappropriate.

He stared at her in surprise for a few moments. She had never seen him so tousled—his sleeves were rolled up and he had taken off his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He always looked so put together and seeing him in a more casual way awakened something in her.

She found him rather attractive.

The realization hit her like a freight train. She knew that she had to leave—coming here had been a mistake. "I-I'm so sorry to interrupt you at home," Belle said. "I don't know what I was thinking." She turned to leave.

"Belle, wait," he said. She turned back to look at him. He was silent for a moment, as if trying to figure out what to say. "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?" he finally asked. She watched him for a few moments, knowing that she should go, but unable to will herself to say no.

"Okay," she said softly. She entered the house, smelling the unmistakable scent of alcohol as she brushed past him. "I'll make the tea."

"That's okay," he said. "I offered it, so I'll make it." She followed him into the kitchen, watching him take out the tea tray and fill the kettle with water. His movements were clumsy and awkward, completely different from his usually reserved and elegant manner.

"How much have you had to drink?" she asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

"A lot."

"Let me help—I don't trust you not to chip another teacup."

"_I_ didn't chip the first one," he said as if _she_ was the one who chipped it. "It was already broken when I acquired it. I'll make the tea myself."

She shook her head at his stubbornness. Somehow, he managed to get the water on the stove without spilling any.

Then he turned and looked at her. She felt his eyes looking her up and down, raking over her body, focusing on her lips and finally meeting her eyes. She had never seen such a heated expression on his face, full of hunger and desire. He took a step closer to her.

"Why did you come here?" he asked.

Belle took a deep breath. It was indeed a good question, one that she didn't know the answer to. She tried to think of all the excuses possible, but none of them sufficed. In the end, she told the truth. "I don't know."

He stared at her for a few seconds, his eyes boring into her. Part of her wanted to shrink back under his intense gaze. But, she was determined not to be a coward. She might not be able to voice her reasons for being here, but she would at least try to be brave.

Belle realized that his face was only inches from hers, his breath on her cheek. She moved her face closer to his, wondering how his lips would feel against hers. This hadn't been the first time such a thought had crossed her mind, and after her date, she knew that the only man she wanted to kiss was him.

The spell was broken by the whistling of the tea kettle. She jumped as he turned back to the stove and prepared their tea. Belle's heart was still pounding as she wordlessly took the tray from him. She knew that he wouldn't be able to maneuver easily with both the tray and his cane, especially under the influence of alcohol. Belle had gotten to know his movements well in the past few months and was always able to anticipate when he might need her to help.

She walked into the library, noticing the bottle of Scotch and empty glass on the table. Belle shifted her tray into one hand and used the other to move both the bottle and the glass. It wasn't until they were both seated sipping their tea that he spoke again.

"It tastes much better when you make it," he said after he took a sip out of his chipped cup.

She gave a small laugh, relieved that he had broken the awkward silence between them. "It tastes exactly the same."

He turned and smiled at her. "No, I definitely prefer your tea." She smiled back.

"I take it your date was unsuccessful?" he said flippantly.

She frowned. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you're at my house and not the sheriff's."

The implication in his statement caused her heart to pound. Indeed, she had ended her date by going to see another man. It must be so obvious to Gold that she preferred his company to any other man's. "It was fine. Graham is very kind."

Her eyes focused on a glint across the room. Wanting to change the subject, she stood and walked towards it, realizing that it was broken glass. "What happened?" she asked.

"I dropped a glass."

She frowned. He was generally neither careless nor clumsy. How had it happened? It had to have something to do with the amount of alcohol he had consumed. Why had he drunk so much? She knew that she could sermonize on the dangers of alcohol poisoning and drunkenness, but it wouldn't likely help anything.

"I'll clean it up," she said.

He stood quickly and grabbed her arm, slightly stumbling. "Don't. I'd hate to have to take my only friend to the emergency room after she hurt herself on the glass."

"I'm not that clumsy!" she said.

"Aren't you?" he said with an impish grin. She rolled her eyes with a laugh. She had broken one plate two months earlier and he still hadn't let her live it down.

"Well, you're the one who dropped a glass."

He laughed. "I suppose that's true, my dear." She realized that he was still clutching her arm through her sweater.

She looked up at him for a moment, their eyes meeting. The smile on his face faded and he suddenly looked completely sober. "Why are you here?" he asked for the second time that evening.

She shook her head. Why _was_ she here? What was wrong with her? "I-I don't know. I was walking and your light was on. Before I knew it, I had knocked on your door." She sighed. "I never really apologized for the cruel things I said earlier."

"You said nothing I didn't deserve."

She took a deep breath. "It was wrong of me to go out with Graham. It was rather petty and childish of me, but I only did it because I hoped to make you jealous."

His eyes widened at her confession. He stared at her for a minute, his breath tickling her face. "It worked." She didn't miss the flicker of his eyes toward the broken glass. Obviously something more than clumsiness or drunkenness had been at work there.

"Oh," was all she could say. The yearning in his eyes was plain and obvious. She wanted to close the distance between them, wanted to touch him.

After much internal debate, Belle made a decision. She leaned forward and kissed him.

His lips were soft and warm as they moved against hers and his hand moved from her arm to her back, pulling her closer. Warmth spread throughout her entire body. The kiss ended, and she couldn't help but notice the surprise and wonder in his eyes.

"All I could think today was how much I don't deserve someone like you, Belle."

She brought one of her hands up to his face and began stroking his cheek. She relished the feel of his stubble under her fingertips. "Don't talk like that. Beneath your gruff exterior, you're a good person."

He laughed mirthlessly. "You're alone in thinking that. I'm the town monster."

"You're not a monster. Perhaps people think that because they don't know you. But beneath the surface, you're gentle and kind."

He shook his head. Then he brought his fingers to her cheek, touching it softly. "You're amazing, Belle," he whispered, before pressing his mouth to hers.

The second kiss was more demanding, more passionate. He urged her backwards, carefully pushing her up against one of the bookcases. One of the shelves pressed into her neck, but she found that she didn't really mind. He let out a moan as she stroked her hands through his hair, a sound that stirred something deep within her.

She had never, in her entire life, been kissed like this. While she certainly had only dated sporadically, and probably had less experience that other women her age, she couldn't possibly imagine a better kiss than this one. Despite all of the books she had read, romances with dashing heroes, adventures with couples high on adrenaline, and fairy tales which spoke of true love's kiss, nothing prepared her for this. She knew that she would never be able to kiss another man without thinking of this moment.

And for the first time in her life, she hoped that he was the last man she would ever kiss.

They stayed like that several wonderful minutes before he pulled back. She touched her lips, swollen from his kisses.

"As much as I would love to remain in this position for the rest of the night, I'm afraid my leg is ready to give out," he said, his brogue deeper than usual. The sound of his accent caused a shiver to run down her spine.

He put his hand on her waist and led her to his chair. He stumbled as he sat down and managed to pull her into his lap. She quickly stood, not wanting to hurt him. However, he grabbed her and situated her back on top of him. "This is much better," he slurred, his arms pulling her tight to him so that she couldn't escape.

She couldn't help but begin to giggle. "Is having me on your lap really any better for your leg?"

A smile formed on his face as he kissed her cheek. "Perhaps not—" another kiss on the side her neck— "but I think that—" he kissed her ear—"I rather like it." Then he turned her face towards his and kissed the tip of her nose.

She liked him like this—playful and sweet—a side that she so rarely saw of him. Belle laughed again. "You silly man." Then she kissed him on the mouth again.

When the kiss ended, she sighed in contentment, leaning her forehead against his own. Belle tried to shift her weight so that she wasn't crushing his bad leg, but he just pulled her closer.

It took a few minutes for her to realize that he was dozing off. "Adrian?" she said softly.

He started. "Sorry. Too much to drink."

"I'm not sure if I should be offended that you're falling asleep when you're with me or happy that you feel comfortable enough to relax in my presence," she teased.

"The latter," he said with a yawn.

"I should let you go to bed."

"Stay a little longer," he said sleepily.

Belle laughed, but complied. It wasn't until after midnight, when she had tucked him into bed that she finally left.

She didn't notice that she was being watched as she exited his home.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: First of all, I owe a major apology to anyone who is following this story-it took way too long for me to update it. I hope that the length of this chapter makes up for it. And I also feel bad for not responding to reviews this time around; just know that I read every single one and they really meant a lot to me.

The second thing is that I changed the rating from T to M. I've seriously spent the past three months trying to decide if I wanted to do the rating change but decided it would be a fun thing to try my hand at writing smut. I've never really written it before, so I hope you enjoy it! =)

The next few chapters are partially written and will hopefully be updated quickly (no promises, though). I'm really looking forward to publishing them-a lot of unanswered questions will be answered and there will be some big revelations.

And last of all, have fun reading this chapter!

**To Which Fate Binds: Chapter 9**

It never ceased to amaze Belle how quickly rumors spread throughout Storybrooke.

Her phone rang at nine o'clock the next morning. "Hello?" Belle answered sleepily—she had allowed herself a rare Sunday morning to sleep in.

"How could you not tell me?" a voice demanded.

"Ruby?" she asked with a yawn. She could hear the noises of the diner in the background.

"Of course it's Ruby, one of your supposed best friends!"

As much as she loved Ruby, it always amazed her how dramatic her friend could be. "What's wrong, Ruby?"

"Apparently you're dating Mr. Gold—of all people—and I had to find out from Dr. Whale!"

Belle sat up in bed. "What?!"

"He came in for breakfast this morning and has been telling everyone that he saw you leaving Gold's house late last night. They're neighbors, you know. I told him that you had been out with Graham and that there was probably a logical explanation for it. So what were you doing there?"

Belle sighed. She had wanted some time to herself to think and reflect on her relationship with Adrian Gold. "Just talking," she lied. "I left my book at Mr. Gold's house, so I went there after my date with Graham to get it. And we ended up chatting late into the evening."

"You're a horrible liar, Belle."

"Young lady, get off that phone this instant," Granny's voice said in the background.

"Uh oh. I gotta go. I'll come by later, and we'll talk. Bye, Belle."

"Bye," Belle said.

Belle cursed inwardly. Go figure that Dr. Whale, one of the least trustworthy men in town would just happen to be watching outside the moment she left. But he had been and now the rumors would be flying around town.

Sure enough, her phone chimed again less than an hour later. "Hi Dad," she said as she answered it.

"Belle, is it true?"

Dread formed in her chest. She knew exactly what he was talking about, but still asked, "Is what true?"

He didn't hide the anger from his voice. "Justin came into the shop and said that you've been dating Mr. Gold."

"Dad, I'm not sure where he got that idea. Mr. Gold and I have never been on a date." It wasn't really a lie. They _hadn't_ been on a date; so far, their relationship had included nothing more than a few (okay, a lot of) kisses the previous night.

"So why did Justin think you're in a relationship with Mr. Gold?"

"Because Justin's an idiot?" Belle said lightly.

"Belle," her father warned. "Justin loves you very much."

"Dad, you know I don't feel the same way about him."

"Just be honest with me, Belle, are you in love with Gold?"

"What?!" Belle was shocked at her father's bluntness. This was something that she felt completely unprepared to answer in her own mind so talking about it to her father was completely out of the question.

Belle took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Dad, but I don't want to discuss my love life with you."

"I forbid you from any relationship with that horrible man."

She couldn't believe he actually had the audacity to try to order her not to date someone! "Dad! I'm almost thirty years old. You can't dictate who I date."

"Belle, you don't understand. If you only knew what he really was…"

"I'm hanging up now. Goodbye."

She ended the call before he could respond. He immediately called back and she let the phone go to voicemail.

True to her word, Ruby showed up as soon as she could, after the lunch rush was over at the diner. Belle had briefly considered conveniently being out for the entire afternoon so she wouldn't have to deal with Ruby's questions, but in the end, she decided to get it over with.

"Where's Mary?" Ruby asked as soon as she walked in.

"Volunteering. She left before I woke up this morning." _Thankfully_, Belle thought. Mary Margaret would be yet another person who would ask questions that would be difficult to answer.

"So what's going on with you and Gold? What about Graham? It's kind of suspicious that you ended your date with him by going over to Gold's house."

Belle took a deep breath, opting to tell the truth. "He kissed me."

"Who, Graham? Or _Gold_?"

"Er… both actually."

Ruby shrieked in excitement. "Two men in one night?! Way to go, Belle!"

Mary Margaret chose that moment to walk through the front door. "What's all the commotion in here?" she asked. "I could hear Ruby screaming from outside."

Unable to pass up a chance to poke fun at Belle, Ruby's frown turned into a mischievous grin. "Belle's dating two men at once!"

"Ruby!" Belle turned to Mary Margaret. "I'm not dating two men. She's joking."

"Last night Belle made out with both Graham and Mr. Gold!" Ruby said to Mary Margaret, enjoying Belle's embarrassment far too much.

"Wait, you made out with Gold? I knew you kissed Graham, but when did you see Mr. Gold? Is that where you ran off to after your date?"

Belle nodded, knowing that her face had to be a dark shade of crimson by now.

"So, what exactly happened after you left here last night?" Mary Margaret asked.

"I went over there to talk, and we kissed. Several times, actually."

"Wow! Did you sleep with him? I bet he's really good in bed. Older men always are," Ruby said with a gleam in her eye.

"Ruby!" Belle cried. "Not yet." The truth was that she had lain awake the previous night, thinking about how his hands and mouth would feel on her body, how he would feel inside of her. She had only had sex with one man: her ex-boyfriend. Justin had been a very selfish lover. Belle had a feeling—at least she hoped—that Adrian would be the opposite.

"So, are you in a relationship with him now?" Mary Margaret asked, excitement in her eyes.

"I don't know—I suppose so. I'd just like to see where it goes." Belle paused for a second, looking from Ruby to Mary Margaret. "I would have thought that the two of you would be more concerned about this. Neither of you particularly like him."

Ruby and Mary Margaret looked at each other for a few moments. "Well," Mary Margaret said. "We were actually just talking about the two of you a few days ago. The thing is, ever since you started working for him, you seem much happier."

"And so does he." Ruby said. "He actually gave Granny an extension on the rent last week, and didn't even make her pay extra. And when he came into the diner for breakfast last Sunday, he was _humming_."

"Humming?" Belle repeated.

"Yes! Humming! It's something only happy people who are in love do—not greedy, miserly bastards. "

"And he smiled at me and said hello last week when I passed by him on the street," Mary Margaret added. "In all the years I've known him, I had never seen him smile. And he's always ignored me except when he was picking up the rent. Until you started working for him."

"And he loans you books!" Ruby cried. "You're always talking about the books he lets you borrow. I don't even think Justin _owns _any books. You deserve a man who's not a complete moron."

"So… you don't think the age difference is a problem?" Belle asked.

"Age is just a number," Mary Margaret said. "There have been many successful relationships with far larger age gaps than yours."

Belle looked from Ruby to Mary Margaret. She was amazed that both of them were actually supporting a relationship with Adrian.

"Honestly, Belle, it's obvious to everyone in the town—well, maybe not to you, but everyone else—that he's in love with you. And you love him back," Ruby said. The words hit Belle hard. Not because they were surprising, but because they were true. She _was_ in love with him… and perhaps he felt the same way.

* * *

Adrian Gold heard the bell above the shop door less than five minutes after opening the store that Monday.

Moe French walked in, determination on his face. "Good morning, Mr. French," Gold said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Spare me the bullshit. You know why I'm here. Stay away from my daughter." Gold was taken aback by French's bluntness and boldness, but he didn't show his surprise.

"While I understand your concern," Gold said with a sneer, "I do believe that Belle is of an age where she can make her own decisions about who she spends her time with."

"She's innocent and doesn't know how what you are. If you don't leave her be, I'll tell the whole town your secret."

Gold began racking his brain to think of what possible information about him Moe French could have to blackmail him with. While many of his past actions could be described as morally ambiguous, nothing stood out as particularly illegal, especially the things that French would know about.

"I'm sorry, Mr. French, but you're going to have to be more specific. I have many secrets," he said flippantly.

"I know who you are… Rumplestiltskin."

A strange feeling washed over him, the word triggering a state of confusion in his mind. _Rumplestiltskin_. _Rumplestiltskin_. _Rumplestiltskin._

He repeated the word over and over in his mind, nearly forgetting that Moe French was still watching him with anger in his eyes.

"Mr. French, I think you have me confused with someone else. Whatever it is you think I've done, you're mistaken. Now unless you'd like to make a purchase, I would suggest you leave." Gold tried to keep his voice even, reminding himself that Belle wouldn't be happy if he threatened bodily harm to her father.

"Don't think that I'll allow my daughter to be taken away by the Dark One again. I will not let you destroy her."

Gold kept his composure, but deep down inside, he was hugely confused. Sure, he could sometimes be kind of a bastard, but he had no idea what Moe French was referring to. It was almost as if French knew something he didn't. Gold prided himself on knowing everything about everyone, yet this situation was rather uncomfortable.

Still, he didn't show his discomfort. "Mr. French, whatever you think I am, know that I'll never do anything to hurt Belle. Now I'd like you to leave before I call the sheriff on you. _Again_." The reminder of French's earlier arrest for stealing from him seemed to do the trick and the man left the shop, slamming the door behind him.

"Rumplestiltskin," he said after Moe French left, rolling the word off of his tongue. He spent the next five minutes repeating the word over and over again, before finally telling himself to not think of the encounter again because Moe French was a bit of a thing was for certain—he was not going to tell Belle about her father's visit.

Belle came in that afternoon with a bag of food in her hand and a smile on her face. He had to be the luckiest man in town, if not the entire world. He still had no idea what a woman like Belle could possibly see in a man like him, but he supposed that he could enjoy his time with her before she inevitably realized that she was far too good for him.

She greeted him with a quick kiss on the lips. He responded by grabbing her around the waist and pulling her close, then bringing his lips to hers again.

"That's a rather nice way to say hello," she said with a laugh after the kiss ended. He put his forehead against hers and smiled back at her. He knew that if any of the townspeople walked in, his reputation would forever be spoiled by the idiotic grin on his face.

They chatted amiably as they ate lunch, her blue eyes sparkling in joy the entire time. Was he the one who had put it there? The thought that he could make this wonderful and beautiful woman happy seemed impossible. He was completely besotted with her (what man wouldn't be?) but could she love him as much as he loved her?

He watched her carefully as she watched the dishes, completely mesmerized. He loved this woman, more than he had ever loved Michelle, or any other woman he had ever encountered.

"Is everything okay?" she asked and he realized that she was looking back at him, noticing how he stared at her.

"You're the most amazing woman I've ever met." The words tumbled out idiotically before he could think them over (Adrian Gold _never_ spoke without thinking).

Her face colored in a very appealing blush. She looked back at him for a few minutes before finally speaking. "I couldn't stop thinking of you yesterday. All day long, I just thought about kissing you and how much I wanted to see you again. I thought about going over to your house again, but I didn't want to bother you."

He picked up his cane and walked over to her until he they were only a few inches apart. "You could never bother me. I could spend every minute of every day with you for the rest of my life and I would still never get tired of seeing you."

She put her hands on his face and looked into his eyes for a few moments in amazement at his confession. Then she kissed him again.

Belle moved her hand into his hair and behind his neck. He took his mouth from hers, burying his face in her hair, inhaling, for a few moments, relishing its feel and smell. Then he moved his mouth to her neck and a moan escaped her lips.

Much to his complete and utter surprise, Belle began unbuttoning his jacket.

Then the bell of the door to the store rang.

Gold cursed as he released her, suddenly realizing how much his leg was killing him.

"I-I'll get it," Belle stammered. Her voice wasn't the only unsteady thing; her entire body was shaking. Gold then realized that he was trembling even more than she was.

He sat down for a few moments, struggling to regain his composure (did Belle have any idea what she did to him?), then straightened his clothes. He heard the sound of Justin's Thompson's whiny voice.

The boy's interruption of his moment with Belle only made Gold dislike him even more.

Gold walked to the curtain that separated the back from the shop.

"Mr. Thompson, I thought that I asked you not to pester my employees," he said as he walked into the store.

"Mr. Gold, I'm so sorry. See, I was just talking to Belle and—"

"I'm not sure why you expect me to care why you were here, but I would appreciate it if you would leave."

"But I—"

"Mr. Thompson," he said with warning in his voice.

The boy looked at Belle, hope in his eyes. "Justin, you should go." Gold was almost pleased at the annoyed tone in her voice that made it clear that she had no interest in keeping him there.

"Fine," Justin said, looking like a wounded animal. He walked out of the shop.

"Of all the idiotic, foolish… will that boy never learn? I suppose he came to declare his love for you and challenge me to a duel."

Belle laughed. "Any thoughts of dueling you went out the window when you growled at him. He's completely petrified of you. Although this is the first time I've ever see you jealous," Belle said with a mischievous smile.

"Of _him_? I am most absolutely not jealous!"

A devilish smile on her face, she grabbed his tie, pulling him closer to her, their faces only inches away. Arousal crept back into his body and he began imagining taking her right there on the counter.

"You should know by now that I prefer men with a bit more substance than that."

She moved her face towards his, then pulled away at the last second, before their lips could touch. "I should get going. Cleaning to do, dinner to make," she said lightly. "Unless…"

"What?" Gold said, his teeth clenched. It seemed that she was attempting to drive him mad—and succeeding.

"Unless you close up early and we can finish what we started before being so rudely interrupted."

He gaped at her in astonishment. When had his sweet innocent Belle turned into a wanton seductress?

Once his shock at her words wore off, Gold wasted no time in grabbing the keys from under the counter, going to the front of the store and locking the door. He turned the sign to Closed.

The little minx watched him with eyes glinting in amusement as he walked back over to her.

As soon as he reached her, she grabbed the lapels of his coat and pulled him close to her.

He groaned as she began kissing him, her tongue demanding entrance into his mouth. He found that he rather liked that she was taking charge.

He steered her behind the curtain (it wouldn't do to have nosy residents of the town looking in on them) leaned his cane against the wall, then pulled her shirt out of her jeans, wanting to feel her skin. He let out a breath when his fingers made contact with soft, perfect skin, the heat between them apparent. He shrugged out of the jacket and put it over the chair at his desk.

"Let's go into the other room." Her voice was lower than usual, its huskiness sending a shot of desire straight to his groin. She led him to the sofa. He limped a little in getting there, but his knee was the furthest thing on his mind at the moment. She quickly scrambled into his lap, her legs straddling him. Gold gave her a quick kiss on the mouth, then slowly began nibbling down her neck. Her scent was completely intoxicating. She moaned his name when he nipped at the place where her neck met her shoulder.

She pulled back and began loosening his tie, her expression a combination of devotion and desire, which likely mirrored his own.

He had never felt this way about a woman and he knew that he would be willing to do nearly anything for her.

He helped her as she took off his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. He noticed for the first time that her fingers were trembling. Despite the impression of confidence she had given, it was apparent that she was just as nervous about this as he was. When she noticed his undershirt, she giggled. "You have on far too many clothes, Adrian."

He smiled. "As do you, my dear."

She laughed as she pushed his outer shirt off and he gave her another heated kiss before helping her out of her blouse. His heart pounded when he saw the swell of her breasts above the blue lace bra.

It was only then that it sunk in that this was really happening, that he was with Belle, the woman he had lusted after for so long and had grown to love recently.

"Belle, you have no idea… how long…" he panted as she ran her fingers through her hair, then down his back.

Part of him wanted to go slow, savoring the moment as long as possible—but that was close to impossible to do when she was touching him like that.

She ground her hips against his and he let out an involuntary moan. She then put her fingers under his undershirt and pulled it over his head. He felt self-conscious for a few moments, knowing that even though he was in much better shape than most men his age, he was still much older than her and his body was certainly far from perfect. However, his insecurity was gone quickly—she seemed happy enough to trail her mouth from his shoulder and down his chest.

His hands moved from her waist to unbutton her jeans, revealing lace panties that matched her bra. The sight of them made him even more aroused than he already was. She divested of her jeans and then settled back on his lap. Then he began raking his fingers down her back and hips and finally back up as he unclasped her bra, revealing her breasts which, in his opinion, were completely perfect.

Gold ran his fingers from her waist to the sides of her breasts, causing her to shiver. He cupped her left breast in his hand then began running his thumb over her nipple. She gasped.

He took her sound of pleasure as a sign to continue, and began kissing down her shoulder, then her chest until he got to her breast, which he took in his mouth.

She cried out and grasped his shoulders as he ran his tongue over her nipple. His skin nearly burned where her fingers held him.

One of his hands worked its way down her stomach and underneath the lacy blue material of her panties. She gasped when he began stroking her wet core.

He was pleased that she was as aroused as him.

It didn't take long for her to come undone, her nails digging into his shoulders as she cried out again.

Panting, she began undoing his belt, then quickly pulled off his pants, shoes, socks and boxers. She stepped out of her own underwear and gently pushed him onto his back on the couch. "You're beautiful," she said.

Had _she_ just called _him_ beautiful? The most gorgeous woman in the entire town (and possibly the entire world) had referred to him as _beautiful_?

"Not just the way you look," she said as she covered his body with her own, softly rubbing against him.

"But you have such a good heart, Adrian—you just don't let everyone see it. But I know it's there."

Had he been able to form coherent sentences (an impossibility as she stroked his erection), he would have protested. Instead, he groaned and rolled her over onto her back.

He put both legs on either side of her, kissed her. Then he hesitated. _Are you sure about this?_ he almost asked her. He didn't need to say it, however; she bit her lip and nodded at him.

He slowly entered her. She was tight, and gasped as he filled her. Was he hurting her? Should he stop? The first few thrusts were slow, tentative. However, she wound her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. That was the encouragement he needed to go faster.

He didn't last long before reaching his orgasm, but it hit him harder than any he could remember in his entire life. Not that he had a lot of sexual experience—he hadn't been with a woman since his ex-wife, and that had been many years earlier.

He practically collapsed, his head on her chest. She moved over to let him lie next her on the sofa. He put his arm around her and pulled her close, his hand stroking her back. He took the blanket from the back of the sofa and put it over them.

He couldn't speak, couldn't put into words how right and wonderful it had felt. He absolutely adored this woman.

As they lay there in contented silence, Gold tried to think of a time in his life when he had felt happier than this exact moment. He was unable to.

She was the first one to speak. "As much as I'd enjoy lying here the rest of the day, I really do need to do my chores at your house."

For the first time since she had kissed him, he remembered that he was her employer and she worked for him.

"You have the rest of the day off." He kissed her cheek. "However, I would be delighted if you'd join me for dinner."

"And dessert?" she asked innocently.

"That too." He smiled, then tickled her, causing her to shriek and jump up.

"You truly are a wicked man who deserves to be punished!"

"I look forward to that, my dear."

She laughed, a more carefree giggle than what he was used to hearing from her.

"Perhaps we can try this again on a bed; I can't imagine either of us will be able to walk tomorrow if we continue on the sofa," she said.

He knew that she was referring to him—specifically his knee—and not herself. The pain in his leg was agonizing, and he would likely be leaning on his cane more than normal for the next few days, but he found that he didn't much care.

Part of him felt uncomfortable that their first time together had been on a sofa in the back room of his shop, instead of a proper bed, but, he reasoned, she hadn't seemed to mind. Although he had envisioned roses and champagne, and silk sheets, he wouldn't have traded this for anything.

Belle began sorting through their clothes. She put on her panties and bra and he gave her an impish grin.

"Speaking of being wicked, do you always wear such lovely lingerie? Or were you hoping to seduce me today?"

Her face turned scarlet. He enjoyed making her blush. "I realized yesterday how much I desire you, and how much I love you. I've been in love with you for _months_ now."

He stared at her in shock for a few moments. _Love_… she had actually said she _loved_ him. "I-I love you too," he said, his voice shaking, the words difficult to say.

She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "I know."

He finally stood and began to get dressed. "What do you want for dinner?" he asked as he buttoned his shirt. "We can stop by the supermarket and get something."

"Do you want me to make steak and potatoes?"

"I told you, Belle, you have the evening off. I'm cooking tonight."

"You can cook?"

He laughed. "I'm not completely helpless. Granted, I mostly survived on diner food before you came along, but I do know how to operate the stove."

She gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "I'm looking forward to it."

She held his hand and even kissed him on the cheek once while they were in the supermarket, seemingly not caring if the entire town knew about their relationship. While it surprised him that she didn't want to conceal it, it also made him rather happy.

After the supermarket, they spent the afternoon in his bed, exploring each other's bodies and making love, only stopping when it was time for dinner.

He refused to let her help with the cooking and she seemed to make it her goal to distract him as much as possible, stealing kisses and touching him while he cooked. His skin still felt like it was on fire every time her fingers made contact with it. He was glad that the steak he was making wasn't something more complicated or he would probably have ruined it. As it was, he ended up leaving the potatoes in the oven too long (the way she nibbled on his neck caused him to forget about their meal briefly).

"This is delicious, Adrian," she said after taking her first bite of the steak. She gave him a big smile, and he vowed to cook for her more often. He had preferred to spend as little time as possible in the kitchen, but making a meal for a woman he cared about caused him to rethink his ideas about cooking.

The two of them chatted throughout dinner and he realized how much he hoped they could spend every night like this.

He washed the dishes, but allowed her to make tea for them. It truly did taste better when she made it. He wasn't sure what it was that she did, but he found that he preferred her tea to his own. She automatically gave him his chipped cup, the one that he always had to use for some reason. He had cut himself on it several times in the past, but still kept using it. She had been right to call him strange on her first night, so many months ago.

They took their tea into his library and she took several books out of her bag (he was more surprised than he probably should have been that she carried so many books around) and handed two of them to him.

"I've been carrying these around for the past few days. I told you that I'd recommend more books for you, and here they are. You don't have to read them if you don't want to, but…"

"I want to," he interjected. "Thank you."

She smiled, then handed him another book, Once Upon a Time.

"This is the fairy tale book that I was talking about. I finished reading it, so it should go back to the store. Or you can keep it for your own personal library; it's such a beautiful book."

He began looking through it, noting the brightly colored pictures. It wasn't an antique, but there was something about it…

He opened to a page at random and looked at the picture, a man at a spinning wheel. _Rumplestiltskin_, the name beneath the picture said.

_I know who you are, Rumplestiltskin. _

Something in him stirred as Moe French's words came back to him. The unease he had felt when speaking with French returned with a vengeance.

It had to be a coincidence.

He felt the beginnings of a migraine. Something was strange—it was as though he had a task to do but couldn't remember what it was.

"You should donate this to the school." The words came out of his mouth before he could even think about them.

She looked confused. "You don't want to keep it for the store? It seems expensive."

"It's meant to be read by children. It will hardly get that sitting on the shelf in my shop."

"You truly are very generous, Adrian." He didn't deny it, for he had no idea what could have possibly possessed him to give away something that could fetch a large profit. Perhaps he was going soft because of Belle.

He handed the book back to her, trying to get the name _Rumplestiltskin_ out of his mind. "You've certainly found many treasures down in the basement," he said with a smile.

"Oh! I forgot to tell you about the antique books I found last week!" she exclaimed.

She began enthusiastically talking and he began to think that if he could spend every evening like this one, he would be a happy man.

* * *

After that night, they had three months together. Three blissful months of stolen kisses, after-dinner chats, making love late into the night, waking up next to each other. Gold had never been one for sentiment, but he knew that he would love Belle French until his dying day.

Unfortunately, he also knew that he was not entitled to a happy ending. The idea of living happily ever after with Belle French was too precious, and it was something that was not meant to be.

Sure enough, it happened: his entire world came crashing down one summer day when Emma Swan came waltzing into town.


	10. Chapter 10

**To Which Fate Binds: Chapter 10**

_Ten Years Earlier… _

Moe French had always enjoyed his simple life. At fifty-seven years old, he had never married, had no children, and no living relatives. He had never been unhappy about his eternal bachelorhood; in fact, he preferred living alone to being tied to a nagging wife and ungrateful children. Many of his acquaintances were unhappily married and forced to support ungrateful children who did nothing but burden their parents. Moe didn't bring in much of a profit at his flower shop (in fact, he was often behind on the rent), but his needs were minimal and he could usually make ends meet. Some might have considered his life boring, but he had always been content.

However, his entire world came to a halt one evening in July when a stranger walked into his shop.

"May I help you?" Moe asked the man, who was dressed like nobody he had ever seen in Storybrooke. Moe didn't know much about fashion, but this man's clothes looked like something out of one of those period dramas that the women he had dated seemed to like.

"Are you Moe French?" the man asked him.

Moe nodded and grunted an assent.

"My name is Jefferson. I'm here about your daughter."

Moe frowned. "I'm not sure if you're joking with me or if you're just confused. Or crazy." He gave the man's getup a pointed look. "But I do not have—nor have I ever had—a daughter."

Jefferson sighed. "Regina really did a number on your memories, didn't she?" he mumbled, more to himself than to Moe.

Moe had no idea what he was talking about. Was this man referring to Regina Mills, the mayor?

Jefferson spoke to him as if he was a child. "Moe, you have a _daughter_. She's been locked up and her name is _Belle_."

"Belle," Moe murmured aloud. Suddenly visions and memories came rushing back to him. His beautiful, beloved wife, Brigitte, who had passed away too soon. And Belle. His dear, sweet daughter, Belle. "Belle—she's alive?"

"You remember," Jefferson whispered. "So it's true—the curse is weak tonight."

Moe ignored both Jefferson and the nagging questions that were surfacing inside of him. His mind drifted back to the day he had last seen her, as she was led away from that horrible monster. Who also happened to be his landlord.

"I'll kill him. Gold. Rumplestiltskin. Or whatever the hell his name is. As soon as I find her, I'll kill him."

"Rumplestiltskin didn't lock her up, Moe."

"Who did?"

Jefferson stayed silent. Instead of answering, he changed the subject. "You can't tell anyone that you remember. Both you and Belle will be in danger if you do. You can't even tell her. Belle needs to think that she grew up in this world."

Moe was colossally confused. He didn't know what Jefferson was talking about. All he knew was that he would protect Belle with everything he had—he would keep her away from that beast and even lay down his life for her if necessary. "What is this place? And where's Belle?"

"I'll take you to her. And I'll explain what I can on the way. Do you want to get her?"

"More than anything else in my life."

* * *

A mile away, Regina felt a strange disturbance in the curse's magic. It was nothing more than a minor hiccup, perhaps something that might have been imagined. She took out her cell phone, ready to call her minions to ask if anything unusual had happened. However, before she could dial Sidney's number, the phone rang of its own accord.

"Hello?" Regina said.

"Congratulations, Madam Mayor, it's a boy." Her heart pounded at Rumplestiltskin's voice. He was calling about the child. _Her_ child. She was going to be a mother!

"Really, Gold, is it really necessary to be so dramatic?" Regina said flippantly, hiding her emotions.

She heard him sigh on the other end of the line. "Fine, Ms. Mills. The child you asked me to procure for you was born just a few hours ago. I hope this means that I can now build on that lovely parcel of land on Cedar Street…." Rumplestiltskin said. His counterpart in this world was a lot less interesting but also a lot less threatening.

"Yes, of course, Gold, you'll have your building permit. I expect the child to be delivered as soon as possible."

"Of course, Ms. Mills. I always keep my deals. As you very well know."

Regina would get caught up in the excitement of her new child, so much that it would be over a week before she found out that her most important pawn, a young woman with no memories of a life in this world or any other world, had been released from her prison.

* * *

Twenty-five hundred miles away, another young woman in a completely different type of prison, struggled to fight back tears as she gave up her newborn son, with the knowledge that she would never see him again.

And from then on, the curse was radically altered.

* * *

_Present Day_

"I have something I need to tell you," Belle said hesitantly, looking at Gold across the dinner table. It was three months since they had begun dating, one month since she had moved all of her belongings into his house. Others saw her shacking up with him after being with him for only two months as being foolish, but she had known it was the right decision.

"What is it, my love?" he asked.

She felt tears forming in her eyes. "I-I don't know how to say this, but…"

He stood, anger in his eyes. "Just spit it out—if you're going to leave me, just tell me!" His voice was impatient and his body was shaking.

"No! I'm not going to leave you," she cried in surprise. Why did he immediately come to that conclusion? "I'm not going to leave you," she repeated, her voice more even, more calm. She walked to him and put her hand to his cheek. "Listen to me, Adrian Gold. I love you and I don't plan on leaving you. But you need to stop thinking that I'm going to ditch you whenever something serious comes up. I'll stand by you no matter what, and I hope you do the same to me."

She put her arms around him, his body still shaking. "Always," he said, his voice raspy. "I'll never leave you. I'm sorry to automatically think the worst. I don't know what came over me. I've been on edge for the past few days. It feels like something bad is going to happen."

"Don't be silly," she said, with a kiss on his cheek. "Now, about what I was going to tell you…"

"Yes?" he prompted.

"You should know that I spent some time in the mental ward of Storybrooke Hospital."

"Storybrooke Hospital has a mental ward?" he said with a frown. Then he blushed, realizing that he had said the wrong thing. "I'm sorry, that slipped out. What I meant to ask was what happened. Why? And how long were you there?" The concern in his eyes comforted her.

She took a deep breath. "I was in there for four years. I used to have these strange dreams and hallucinations—I often couldn't tell the difference between what was real and what was fake. I was convinced that I was a princess locked in a castle waiting for her true love to rescue her."

"And do you still have these dreams? Or the hallucinations?"

"No. It's been ten years since my dad took me out of the hospital. Nothing has happened since then—no dreams, no hallucinations. I don't even remember much about my time there. And…" She took another deep breath. "…and I don't remember anything from before that time. I have no memories of my childhood or adolescence, outside of the time I spent locked up."

He didn't say anything, just stared at her for a few minutes.

"I can leave, you know," she said with tears in her eyes. "Now that you know I'm a former mental patient, I wouldn't blame you if you kicked me out."

"Belle, you are by far the sanest person I know. The only thing about you that would ever make me doubt your sanity is your willingness to put up with an old man like me. I love you too much to care about things that happened in the past; the only important thing to me is our future."

He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "I love you too," she said.

* * *

Gold could feel something in the air, as though something had drastically changed. He wasn't sure what it was, only that there was something off.

None of the townspeople he encountered on the street that day seemed to notice anything different, nor did Belle. She was still full of smiles and laughs, causing his shop to be brighter than it ever had been before she arrived.

Despite Belle's contagious optimism, Gold still couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something big—life changing, even—was coming. It was like the feeling before an approaching storm, one that had the ability to decimate entire towns and devastate populations.

It was only then he found out that Henry Mills had run away.

The next day, he began hearing more whispers and gossip throughout the town.

Henry Mills had returned. And his birth mother had come with him.

Gold remembered the Mills adoption with clarity. Regina Mills had begged him to help her find a child. At first, he had assumed she wanted another minion to do her bidding, but he had come to realize that she truly did want to be a mother. So he had found a suitable baby for her.

The adoption agency he had worked through had assured him that the child's parents were completely absent and would never attempt to find the child. Legally, it had been a closed adoption, and Henry's mother was supposed to be out of the picture. Gold had done thorough research and had been convinced that the child's mother would never search for him.

It was one of the few times in his life that he had ever been wrong.

The one bright spot about his mistake was that it would doubtless cause immense irritation in Regina Mills. She would certainly be displeased at the arrival of Henry's mother.

Still, Gold knew that he should investigate. He couldn't remember the last time an outsider came to stay in the town.

He walked into Granny's Bed and Breakfast that evening, knowing that he was later than expected for the rent.

The woman was standing at the counter, a blonde who might be considered pretty by some. Not by him, of course, he preferred brunette hair.

"What's your name?" Mrs. Lucas was asking.

"Emma Swan."

Suddenly everything came rushing back to him.

"Emma," he said, his mouth dry. "What a lovely name."

Gold, who now knew that he actual name was Rumplestiltskin, was unsure what he said next. He supposed that he had taken the money from Mrs. Lucas, but couldn't remember doing so. Nor did he remember leaving the bed and breakfast.

He began walking around, without a destination, his memories flooding back into his mind.

_Bae_. His son, he had to find his son. They were in the same world. He was ready to jump in his car and began scouring this world for Bae.

And _Belle_. She was alive. After spending so much time in mourning, he now knew she was _alive_. His longing for her, the fairy tale book, the chipped cup; everything suddenly made sense.

Fate had brought them together once again, and he had fallen in love with her for a second time.

Any by some miracle, she had fallen in love with him yet again—only this time he was not the powerful magician, but the cruel and crippled businessman.

Somehow, Rumplestiltskin arrived at his home. It was past dinner time, and he was thankful that he had told Belle he might be a little late; otherwise she would have been in a panic by now.

She was in the library, right in her chair where he would have expected her to be. A pot of tea sat next to her, his chipped cup empty and waiting for him.

He stood in the doorway watching her, and began trembling uncontrollably. Tears began to form in his eyes. He had never expected to see her again. Even right now, it was like a dream.

Her eyes lifted from her book. "Adrian! I'm glad you're home," she said. Her face changed, obviously noting his expression. She quickly stood and walked over to him.

He allowed her to take him in her arms, closing his eyes at her touch. "I-I thought you were gone."

"Why would you think that?" she asked. He inhaled her scent, the same scent he remembered from their days at the Dark Castle. "You know that I'd never leave you."

He knew that he had to be careful—his memories were back, but hers weren't. She was still Belle French, librarian, florist's daughter. As much as he wanted to try bring her memories back to him, he had to be patient, to let the savior do her job.

A new memory rushed back, one of the woman who _had_ left him.

He had killed his wife.

In fact, he had killed many people, hundreds of them, many of whom didn't deserve it.

If Belle knew, she would never forgive him. He felt dizzy. Somehow he made it to his chair, where a concerned Belle knelt next to him. She began talking softly to him, worried, but he didn't register any of the words that she spoke.

Rumplestiltskin had killed many people, often thinking nothing of it. Adrian Gold, on the other hand, had a conscience, and felt like the most despicable man in this world or any other.

He was truly a monster.

He didn't deserve to be in the same room as her, let alone in a relationship. She was everything good and kind while he was the exactly the opposite. There wasn't a single man in this world—or their previous world—who was less deserving of her love than him.

He thought back to all of the times they had made love. At time, he had never felt such pleasure. But he had defiled her, violated her.

He had to stay away from her. He opened his mouth, ready to let her go.

However, the moment his eyes met hers, seeing the concern in them, he lost his nerve. She was the only good thing in his life. Without her, he was nothing.

Had he been a brave man, he would have let her go, knowing she would be better off without him. But his cowardice won out. He allowed her to hold him, at that moment and throughout the entire night in his bed.

During his centuries as the Dark One, there had only been two people who had the ability to make him feel guilty. Unfortunately, one of the two lay in his arms as he woke up the next morning. Despite knowing what a beast he truly was, he still allowed himself to take advantage of the most pure and precious woman he had ever met. And because he was a coward, he would likely continue to do so until her memories came back and she cast him away.

Rumplestiltskin quietly left the bed, knowing that Belle's alarm would go off at any moment. He was glad she would be working that day, because it would give him a few hours to think.

She came into the kitchen right as he finished making breakfast, which had become, in the past few months, one of his favorite ways to spoil her.

"Good morning," she said, giving him a peck on the mouth. "Did you sleep okay?"

He smiled, trying not to give away the emotional turmoil that was eating away at him. "Very well. You kept me warm."

She apparently saw right through his façade. "Do you want to talk about last night?"

He sighed and pulled her close. "Not right now. We'll talk about it later." For him, 'later' meant 'hopefully never'. He didn't expect that response would go over well.

Hurt crossed her face and it broke his heart to know that he was the one who put it there. "Is there another woman?" she asked, her voice cracking.

He was so shocked by her question that he just stared at her for a moment. He couldn't even imagine how she had come to that conclusion. However, the Belle of this world was less confident, more insecure. Yet, he still loved her with all of his being. "Absolutely not! You're the only woman I've been with in many years, and the only woman that I ever plan to be with for the rest of my life!" His voice was impassioned, and he could see the relief in her eyes. He lowered his voice. "Belle… whatever happens, just know that I love you, body and soul, more than any other woman I've ever encountered. In fact, you're the only woman I've ever truly loved." It was the truth—even though he had thought he loved Milah in the beginning, had tried to love her, he had never known real love until his son was born. And in the many centuries after that, in two different worlds, he had only fallen in love twice—both times with the same woman.

"I love you, too, Adrian," she said. He pulled her close, realizing how much he wanted to hear the words, 'I love you, Rumplestiltskin', to know that she accepted him completely, despite all of the horrible things he had done in the past. During their days together in the Dark Castle, she had never known the extent of his wickedness; if she had, she would have probably run away. However, he now wished he had been courageous enough to tell her, so that he could know exactly where he stood with her, rather than being forced to speculate. He promised himself that he would one day reveal everything, give her the choice to accept him (which was unlikely) or to leave him.

He held her for a few minutes until she untangled her arms from his shoulder. "I need to go to work. I'll see you for lunch." She gave him another kiss and left the room.

As soon as she was gone, he sat down and began plotting what to do next. He had to find out more information about the curse and how it had affected others in the town. While he had been the creator of the curse, it wasn't all his. Regina had returned his limp, and had probably found other little ways to try to make his life miserable.

He knew of only two people who had their memories of the other world, and he didn't want to discuss it with either of them. He preferred to have the upper hand when it came to Regina, and would not allow her to know he had his memories back except in dire circumstances. Moe French, on the other hand, could be easily manipulated. And he and French had a common goal—to keep Belle safe.

Rumplestiltskin arrived at Game of Thorns right at its opening, nine o'clock. Moe French arrived ten minutes later, appearing to be suffering from a hangover.

"Mr. French, I see why you have so much trouble supporting this business—you force the few customers you have to wait outside in the cold."

"What do you want, Gold?"

French would be much easier to manipulate in this state. "Can't a man have a cordial visit with the father of his beloved?" Rumplestiltskin asked.

"If you're here to ask for my blessing, forget it. You don't have it!" French snapped. He unlocked the door to the shop and walked to the counter where he slammed his keys.

"I'm completely aware of that," Rumplestiltskin replied dryly, following French. "I'm here for something far more important. Your daughter's safety might be at stake. A few months ago, you called me Rumplestiltskin. Where did you hear that name?"

"Holy shit-you remember!" French said, much to Rumplestiltskin's surprise and chagrin. The man wasn't as dim as he had originally thought.

"Just answer the question," Rumplestiltskin replied, teeth clenched. He was completely prepared to beat this man to bloody pulp if need be. In fact, he had dreamt of doing such a thing many times after hearing about Belle's supposed death.

"I know that you never lie, Dark One—you only twist words. So if I told Belle who you were, you wouldn't be able to deny it."

His hand tightened on his cane. This had been a huge mistake—he had completely underestimated Moe French.

"Do you really want to tell her before the time is right? Do you want your daughter to think that her father is a deranged lunatic?"

"I can tell the mayor that you remember—she'll believe me."

Before even thinking about it, Rumplestiltskin brought his cane down on the counter in front of him. His action didn't cause any damage, unfortunately, but did manage to get the other man's attention. Moe French jumped back. "You stupid man," he hissed. "Do you have any idea what Regina is capable of? Who do you think locked Belle up in the first place? She can easily kill Belle without a second thought. If she knows that I have my memories, she'll do whatever possible to use your daughter against me."

"I'll tell you everything I know—if you promise to stay away from Belle."

"Absolutely not."

"Then tell her the truth—that you've killed thousands of people in cold blood. See if she stays with you after that."

Rumplestiltskin stared at the man in front of him for a moment. This man was most certainly not the idiot he had expected.

"It is the truth, isn't it?" Moe French asked. Rumplestiltskin didn't respond. While the number of people he had killed wasn't quite in the thousands, he doubted that triviality would matter much to Belle. The moment he told her, she would go. "If you don't tell her, I will. I haven't done it before because I knew you'd deny it if you didn't remember. But now I know that you won't."

"Mr. French," Rumplestiltskin said with a smile, even though he was seething on the inside. He had never expected his plans to manipulate Belle's father would backfire, and that French would end up being the manipulator. Rumplestiltskin rarely made mistakes, but this would be one of the few. "It appears that I have grossly underestimated your intelligence. I do hope that we can be allies. I will take your deal and tell Belle that I have killed in the past—without revealing anything of our other land, of course—and you will tell me everything you know about the curse."

"It's a deal. What do you want to know?" French asked.

"Everything," Rumplestiltskin hissed. "Starting with when you found out about it."

"Ten years. A man came into my shop and told me that my daughter was alive and in the hospital."

"Which man?"

"His name was Jefferson. He told me that the curse was weak that day. I didn't know what he was talking about, but he explained that the Evil Queen had cast a curse that brought all of us to this world."

Rumplestiltskin nodded. Jefferson… of course. If only he had tried to find the Hatter before coming to Moe French. "Which day was it?"

"What?"

"The day that Jefferson found you. What was the date?"

"I don't remember. Sometime in August, maybe."

"You had to have gotten paperwork from the hospital when they let Belle out. I need you to find out the exact date."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"Give me a few minutes. It's locked up in the back."

Rumplestiltskin wandered around the shop as he waited, looking at all of the floral arrangements, trying to figure out what Belle would like. He wondered if he should purchase something for her to soften the blow when he revealed his true self to her.

No, there was no point—a silly floral arrangement couldn't make up for what he would be revealing to her. It would be more practical for him to pack her bags, to save her the time and trouble when she left.

"July thirtieth, two thousand one." Rumplestiltskin nodded, not surprised that it was Henry Mills' birthdate.

"Do you know how she ended up in the mental ward?" Rumplestiltskin asked, even though he had a pretty good idea of the answer.

"Nope. But she had no memories, didn't even know her own name. Belle spent the entire first month back dealing with nightmares. Of _you_." His voice was accusing.

"I never hurt your daughter—not in this world or the other," he said through gritted teeth. At least not physically, he thought. He knew that he had hurt her emotionally in the other world. Moe scowled at him and he changed the subject. "What else do you know?"

"We can't leave the town. And some days I forget about my true past. I wake up thinking I'm Moe French, florist."

French had nothing else to tell him—and what he had already said was of little use. Rumplestiltskin found himself regretting revealing himself to him; because of this mistake, he could no longer selfishly keep Belle by his side. In the other world, she might have accepted him even knowing all of the horrors of his past, but in this one, she would not. At least until the curse broke.

"How are you so sure that I won't kill you now that you've told me everything I need to know?" Rumplestiltskin asked flippantly before leaving. French looked taken aback, and Rumplestiltskin relished the fright in his eyes. After a moment of watching the man squirm, Rumplestiltskin laughed. "Fear not, dearie, that was just a quip."

Rumplestiltskin left the store, pleased with himself for having the last word, but not much pleased with anything else. He had promised French that he would tell Belle the truth; however, he hadn't mentioned a date. He could easily wait a few days or a few months, or even until the curse broke to tell her.

However, he knew that he had the option to be brave and good, or selfish and cowardly. This time he had to do what Belle would do in his situation, what Bae would do. For once in his life he had to do the brave thing.

She arrived in the shop at twelve thirty, her eyes bright with excitement. She started talking about her encounter with Emma Swan, the town's newest inhabitant and Rumplestiltskin briefly wondered if he and Belle would have been happy, had Emma never arrived.

He knew the answer—the curse would have eventually torn them apart. The only chance they would have would be if Emma Swan did her job.

"Belle," he said interrupting her. "I have something to tell you."

"What is it, Adrian?"

He picked up the keys to the store, walked to the door and locked it, turning the sign to Closed. It wouldn't do to be interrupted. He didn't bother taking the keys out of the door, knowing that she would probably want to get out as soon as she possibly could after he told her.

He took her hand without saying a word, then led her into the back room, to the sofa where they had first made love.

She watched him in worry for a full minute as he struggled to come up with words. Finally he spoke. "Belle, you should know that many years before I met you, I was not a nice man. I did many horrible and unspeakable things."

"Adrian, whatever you've done, it's over now. You told me that you'd accept me no matter what happened in the past, and I'll do the same for you." She took his hand and began rubbing her thumb against his palm.

"Belle," he began, then looked at the love in her eyes, savoring it for a moment. He would never see it again. He opened his mouth and it took a minute to form the words. "Belle," he said again, his voice shaking. "I-I'm a murderer. I've killed people."

Her hand froze against his and she could only stare at him in shock.


End file.
